When the Cradle Falls
by Rheme
Summary: The hunting life was never easy, but it was for Dean. Never had he thought he'd get a slice of that white-picket fence, apple pie life. Not until a high school fling with Alice Mercer grew into something more than that: a family. Follows the Winchesters, with a few new additions, including Alice, and Alice and Dean's children, Cara and Noah. Currently in Season 2.
1. Broken Bow

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Broken Bow**

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 **1994**

 **Broken Bow, Nebraska**

 **Broken Bow High School**

* * *

A harsh winter was an absolute for the year ahead. School had only been in session for a few weeks, and the trees had already been stripped bare, leaves beyond brown crumples, completely disintegrated. _At least we'll be gone by then_ , a hopefully bitter little voice in a floppy haired head thought.

"Did you hear the new guy pegged Alice Mercer?"

"That arrogant prick in the smelly leather jacket?"

"Yeah. Dean Winchester. A _sophomore._ "

"Really? _Damn._ What do you think he had to do to hit that? Sell his soul?"

"But it'd be _so_ worth it."

A small, quiet Sam Winchester glanced up from the book he was reading towards the dumb jocks in matching letterman jackets. They lumbered by, unashamedly hooting at what they would do to get into Alice Mercer's pants—which would _never_ happen—and what they would do when they did get into said pants. Leafing the pages, Sam let out a mirthless huff at his brother who just couldn't help himself, but mostly for the irony of the dumb bastards' words. Those stupid trolls had no idea what they were talking about. They didn't know Sam could take them both down was a swift kick to the knee or a punch to the throat. Those were only two of the near fifty ways Sam knew to take someone down with just one move. He didn't stop them when one of them slammed into him where he sat on the brick wall, spilling the book from his lap.

"Nerd," one of them hissed maliciously.

Sighing tiredly, Sam waited until they passed, letting them have their fun. As they walked away, he picked up the book and imagined all the ways he could make them cry with it.

Sam ultimately decided it wasn't fair since he didn't even go there; he attended Broken Bow Middle School, adjacent to the high school, a smaller, yet equally soul-crushing institution. Yet, here he was, forced to wait for his idiot older brother to finish his gallivanting around the school, because apparently at eleven and a _half_ years old, Sam wasn't trusted to walk back to the motel alone. Yes, it was on the other side of town, but in a community comprised of less than four thousand, the other side of town was really only a couple of blocks away. Forget that he'd just taken down a werewolf a few weeks earlier.

He went back to reading _Dracula._

A voice broke Sam's reverie. " _Really? That's_ the book you want to read? 't's not even accurate."

"Please. Like vamps are real," Sam muttered, using a book as a sun-shield. He glanced up at Dean, standing there in his notorious, too-large bomber jacket, lips puckered, truly believing he was the hottest shit there was.

Sam just shook his head and stood. "Let's just go," he muttered, as they began their trek back to their temporary home.

The town was typical. The main street held brick buildings with weak awnings, painted storefronts with unnecessary merchandise. _Jojo's Jojoba's. Ritz Barber. First Street Barber. Main Street Barbershop._ And _lots_ of barbershops. The town held a kind of retro taste, a relic that could transverse to any town across the Midwest. See one, see 'em all.

"How much longer do you think we'll be here?" Sam asked, careful not to sound too whiny. He was careful to avoid the uneven pavement, noticing how Dean almost floated over the surface.

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. It's a whole nest of wraiths. May take some time."

Sam wilted. "Thought it was only one."

"Nope. Dad called last night while you were being a nerd. Said it was a whole bunch."

 _It's called studying._ "Oh."

They walked in silence. "I'll bite. Why are you so mopey today, Sammy?"

"Cause I'm in middle school," he muttered sarcastically.

"Fair enough—but really." Dean scrutinized his brother.

"It was just some guys…"

Dean stopped. "What'd they do?" he growled slowly, dangerously.

" _Nothing,_ Dean. God you don't have to solve every problem by beating someone up."

"Maybe you should solve some, then, Sam. You know you could kick someone's ass who's twice your size."

Sam shook his head. As much as he wanted to...he couldn't. "And it's not even that, Dean. It's what I heard them saying."

"What?" Dean was still suspicious, digging both hands deeper into his black-hole pockets.

"It was some girl. Alice Mercer?"

A sneaky, delighted grin started to spread across Dean's face. His posture improved and the hands slowly began to remove from the pockets of the jacket. "Yeah?"

"They said the new guy- _you...did it_ with her…?" Sam tried very hard to not look as uncomfortable as he felt. He felt an itch deep within his brain that he tried to scratch at, no doubt making him look like he had Tourettes.

Dean laughed and clapped a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder. "Well, I can't say I can't deny it. But yeah. We slept together. We had _sex._ You can say it, Sam, I'm sure God will forgive you." Dean looked slyly to the side. "Can't say the same for myself." Proud of himself, he puffed his chest out.

Coughing, Sam momentarily focused on the seventh barbershop they passed. "Alice Mercer?" Sam had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Yep. A senior. Gorgeous. She has the whole good girl facade, but she's really a bit of a tease. And she has this…"

Sam zoned and suddenly was shot back to the middle school library. It'd been one of the first days they were there, and Sam hadn't yet had the courage to wait outside the high school for Dean. He was sitting, with a dusty textbook in front of him, handouts from English class strewn around him. The library had been quiet until he heard soft crying.

Snapping his head around, he noticed a blonde headed seventh grader—Cassidy McCormick, he was pretty sure. Her bouncy ponytail bobbed up and down. On the desk in front of her was some kind of exam with red slashes marking up the entire thing. Besides her, though, was an older girl. This girl was obviously an upperclassman at the high school. She was small breasted, with large hips-among other things-a proud nose, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge and onto her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and brown, hair the same shade in soft, natural waves. Her outfit was non-descript—a tight-fitting t-shirt, light wash jeans frayed at the ends, and high-top sneakers. A silver necklace of some sort fit closely to her throat.

"Come on now, Cassidy, it's just one test." The girl comforted the younger one, leaning forward, nudging the paper away from Cassidy.

"Alice, you don't understand because you're so smart! My parents will _kill_ me!"

The older girl, Alice, sat down beside Cassidy, and laughed softly. "I've failed my share of tests before, trust me. And believe me, there's a lot worse of things you can do than fail a test. It's not the end of the world. You know, a mistake is the beginning of a new chance." Her voice was low, slightly gravelly, but with a wavery, unsure aspect to it.

Slightly comforted, Cassie steeled herself and began to flip through the test. Alice went on, softly pointing out things they could work on. Sam swallowed and quickly turned around.

"I think I know who you're talking about," Sam managed, coming back to his brother.

Pleased, Dean asked, "Pretty impressive, huh?"

"I guess so."

"I know so." Dean smirked ridiculously.

Sam still couldn't believe Alice Mercer was a tease. He'd only looked her full on in the face four times. And each time they locked eyes, he could see her resting face made her look terrified. It was a sweet effect that made Sam want to protect her. He was naïve to think it would have the same impact on his brother. He still wondered, why did everyone talk about her in such a way?

Sure, they all thought it but saying those things out loud was so ugly.

"How'd you get _her_ to sleep with you?" Alice was obviously too good for Dean.

"I just threw out a few lines of Shakespeare. Apparently she likes to read."

"Yeah. I've heard she's really smart. I think she tutors kids at the middle school." Sam fought hard for a level voice, finally glad he could sit down on his bed and face away from Dean, taking a long time to untie his shoes.

"She definitely taught me a few things the other night."

"That's great, Dean."

Smiling, Dean flopped down onto his bed, hands behind his head. "Man, I wouldn't mind hanging here a little while longer."

But, even a little longer could make a world's difference.

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 **Hope you enjoyed! Review if you want. Favorite, all that jazz.**


	2. In the Yellow House

**When the Cradle Falls**

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 **Chapter Two: In the Yellow House**

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In a yellow house on a street named after a tree, a girl sat at the kitchen table, head bowed lowly over a plate of stale scrambled eggs. The other occupant at the table ruffled the newspaper loudly, fork aiming and missing the plate in front of him.

Gathering up some courage, she spoke. "Dad, I don't think I'll be home for dinner tonight. I'm tutoring and I promised some of the kids I tutored I'd stay and watch their band concert."

He shrugged from behind the paper. "Well, talk to your mother."

"Okay. I'll do that before I leave." Quickly, she stood and deposited the eggs down the garbage disposal.

Alice tromped up the old stairs and knocked on the doorframe of the parents' room. "Mom?" she asked. "I just wanted to let you know I'm not gonna be home for dinner."

"Why not, Alice? I was planning on making that roast you love so much."

"School stuff. Tutoring."

"That late?"

"Well, I'm also watching a band concert for some of the kids I tutor. They'd be crushed if I didn't go."

With a tired sigh, the older woman shoved another pillow underneath her head. "That's fine, honey. There's a lunch for you in the fridge. Tell your father his is in there as well."

Alice's hands curled around the frame. She peered further into the darkened room, spotting the outline of her mother underneath a thin sheet. One veined hand moved slowly through the air, grasping for something Alice couldn't see.

Stepping away slowly, Alice returned to the kitchen and relayed the older woman's words. She reached into the fridge to grab a brown paper bag.

"Are you sure that one's yours?" Her father asked.

"They're the same, aren't they?" Alice squinted her eyes at the bag in disdain.

"I know you like turkey and I don't. Why don't you go ask your mother which one is which?"

Setting the crumpled bag back into the fridge, Alice slammed it shut and grabbed her backpack. "It's fine; I'll just buy something at school."

Still behind the newspaper, he said, "Alice, your mother stayed up late to make that for you."

 _Why don't you eat it then,_ she thought bitterly, but quietly stole away out the front door before he could finish the lecture he wasn't even paying attention to.

By the time she got to the end of the block, Alice was trying very hard not to blush. She looked down and composed herself, so there was only a hint of a smirk.

There, leaning against the street sign was Dean Winchester. His smirk was a little more pronounced. He tried to smother his pride, but it was hard when he had a girl who looked like this. "Hey, Allie-cat," he greeted her, swinging from the street sign, planting a lingering kiss on her lips.

"Dean," she returned, voice low.

Still charming as ever, he reached forward and lightly tugged on the end of a shiny ringlet. "Your hair looks nice."

Self-conscious for a moment, Alice patted her freshly curled hair and smiled shyly at Dean. It was so absurd she let herself get taken with this boy. For starters, he was two years younger than her. And as soon as she spotted him in the hall, she knew this wayward bad boy was trouble. But it hadn't mattered at first because, why would he pay any mind to her?

"We've got the whole night," she said, still looking at her hair. "I told my parents I was tutoring and then staying to watch a middle school band concert."

"They buy it?"

"Of course they did," Alice scoffed at the thought of her parents, staring back at the house, feeling guilty for a moment. "I can't wait till I'm out of there. They're so...set in their ways. I feel like I can't even breathe wrong without one of them saying something." The words always seemed to tumble out of her mouth. Whether it was the fact Dean had the effect, or simply because he was the first person who really seemed to listen, she didn't know and didn't care.

"Not too much longer," he assured. "What did you want to do tonight?"

Alice smiled at him, and winked as she walked by. "Find me after school."

Dean whistled lowly, and followed after her, unashamedly admiring her backside.

* * *

Dean walked a petulant Sam back to the motel room, with orders to lock the door and not let anyone in.

Sam crossed his arms and sat down on the bed. "Why? Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Where?" Sam demanded.

"None of your business," Dean shot back, resalting the window.

A sudden idea came to Sam and he stood up. "If you don't tell me where you're going, I'll tell Dad."

Almost shocked, Dean stepped back and appraised his brother. "You wouldn't." But after observing the younger boy's face defiant face, he ultimately decided Sam would. "Fine. I'm going out with Alice. I'm meeting her once she gets out of school. Happy?"

Sam just shrugged.

Moving forward, Dean ruffled a protesting younger brother's hair. "Don't worry, Sammy. In a few years you'll understand. There's so many beautiful girls in the world that need to be shown a good time."

"Sure, Dean."

Dean grabbed his leather jacket and turned to Sam before leaving. "Remember, don't answer the door. Salt it after I leave. Call Bobby if-"

"Dean, I _know_ the drill."

"I know kid. Just checking."

"Not a kid," Sam grumbled, rolling on his side away from Dean.

"Course not," Dean responded as he shut the door. The kid needed to loosen up a little bit. He took everything too seriously and things too personally. He wanted to be treated like an adult but didn't want to hunt, but then would complain when he got left behind on a hunt. There was no pleasing an eleven-year-old Sam Winchester.

 _Whatever,_ Dean thought, shaking off Sam's behavior.

There was a pretty girl waiting for him.

* * *

By the time he returned to the high school, everyone was gone, and for a moment he thought Alice had left as well. As he drew closer, he could see a lone figure sitting on the steps of the school. The long hair draped across her face and the book on her lap.

He walked up to her slowly, making heavier steps so she would notice him sooner. She did and slowly looked up, blinking several times, as if to check that he wasn't just a mirage.

"Sorry I'm late. I just had to make sure Sammy was alright."

Nodding graciously, Alice stowed the book in her bag. "That's fine." They stared in awkward silence for a moment.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

Coming down from the steps, Alice nodded, but walked right past him. "I'm fine."

"I wasn't gonna ditch you, if that's what you were thinking."

"No, I didn't think that. I just had a long day. Now, are you coming or not?" Her tone was brusque, so Dean quickly walked after her.

"Do you have somewhere in mind?" he asked, after awhile. Alice stared straight ahead, seemingly not enjoying Dean's company. He knew he had to tread carefully with this girl-she was a lot smarter than the ones he normally went for. Definitely more of a good girl. The church-going types were like a big catch, and it wasn't common that Dean could snag one, let alone such a good one. Still as smart as she was, she was all the more innocent.

"I did, actually." Words clipped, Alice powered ahead, glancing once at Dean, as if to make sure he was still there. Dean shook his head. Wasn't it the dude's job to act cold and distant after hooking up? This morning she was perfectly happy to see him. Now, she seemed like she was barely tolerating his presence. If it was a ploy, it definitely intrigued him.

"You gonna tell me where?"

She gave him the side-eye. "Don't think so." It was more out of annoyance than flirtatiousness.

The two walked for quite awhile, past the edge of town, and into a sort of industrial yard. Maybe this Alice chick wasn't as innocent as she let on.

They walked across a gravel lot as the cloudy sky had darkened a bit. There wasn't any sense where the sun was, but Dean guessed it was hidden behind the brick chimneys billowing smoke.

"Here," Alice said. She had stopped and Dean had to stare long enough to figure out exactly what he was looking at. Eventually, he realized.

A junkyard.

"A junkyard?" he asked, almost disbelievingly.

She shrugged. "My youth group cleaned up this spot as a service project. I know: cleaning up a dump in an industrial park, no less." She chuckled a bit. "Bet a girl never took you on a date here."

Dean mentally noted he didn't _do dates._ Even at a dump. "Nope," he popped the 'p'. "Never."

She glanced at him. "Well then, lucky you. Try and keep up, yeah?" She literally began to scale a pile of garbage, and Dean kind of stared at her for a second, just to make sure she was real.

Dean quickly followed behind her, the climb a nice and easy conditioning exercise.

Alice climbed over a piece of twisted metal and settled over the edge of some grimy porcelain. Confused for a moment, Dean once again tried to figure out what he was looking at. After inspecting the oblong shape, he determined Alice was sitting in a claw footed bath tub.

She stared at him, lips appearing they could either smirk or frown. Her nails tapped the edge of the tub.

Muttering something, Dean hoisted himself over the edge and submerged himself, knees pressed right up against Alice's. "Cozy," she noted.

Settling for his lady-killer smile, Dean tried to move his face closer to hers but found difficulty in the confined tub. Alice reveled a bit in his struggle. He eventually sat back, pretending he'd meant to do every movement.

"You should know, I had every intention of fucking you tonight, but not anymore." Alice tapped her chin contemplatively, tone crass.

Absolutely floored, Dean tried to hide his surprise, and then disappointment. Of course the thought had crossed his mind, and he was pretty optimistic with enough charm, Alice would actually hear him out. And also, he'd never heard her use such vulgar language. "Was it because I was late?"

She shrugged. "I don't really know. I just don't feel like it anymore." Her eyes flicked up to him. "Am I worth still hanging around?"

"Is this a test?"

She tilted her head, eyebrows raised. "Am I being played? You could accuse me of being a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them."

Dean crossed his arms. "Then why are we here? You don't normally seem to fall for the type like me."

"You're not wrong."

"Then what?"

Alice looked down. "I felt like I threw myself off a cliff when I slept with you."

He shrugged. "Yeah well you're the one who jumped. Could've just said no," he huffed. "I promise I wouldn't have busted out crying or anything embarrassing like that."

Alice acknowledged this with a nod. She leaned forward, knees pressing more into Dean's. "You would've brushed it off like it was nothing, and just moved on to the next girl. I think that's partially what makes you so damn interesting. You've really got nothing to lose, huh?"

He shrugged. "Not in this town. Except maybe you."

She scoffed. "We're not gonna do that. It's obvious you're not here to get attached to me-you said it yourself your father travels a lot. And I'm not in the business to get involved with someone younger than me, especially when college is so close."

"Then what the hell are we doing?"

Alice shrugged. "I have no idea. I feel like that entire conversation was completely asinine."

"Just see where it goes?" Dean offered.

"Well we both know it's going nowhere, but may as well make the road interesting." She glanced at him shyly, eyelids drooping low. It was that one simple thing that always sucked some air out of Dean's lungs.

"Are you saying…?"

She laughed. "There's more than one way to have fun, Dean."

* * *

It was a long night. They sat in an old bathtub, pressed knee to knee, and talked to the stars, and then pressed against each other even further, clothes strewn about. When it was done, Dean walked Alice back and kissed her in front of the yellow house.

He waited until Alice was safely inside before walking away. And she watched him behind a pulled back curtain until he turned the corner, and wondered what the hell she was doing.

"Alice?"

Spinning around, she caught a glimpse of her mother, bent in half on a floral arm chair. She had a glass tumbler in one hand with something particular in it. Sherry Mercer wore a thin pink bathrobe over plaid house pants.

"How was the concert?" Sherry's eyes tracked Alice's movement loosely.

"Oh, really good. The flute section is really strong this year. I'm gonna head to bed; you should too."

"I will," Sherry assured.

Alice walked forward to take the glass from her mother. "Here, I can put that in the dishwasher."

Sherry moved her hand away. "I'll do it. Get some sleep. Don't worry, I won't be up too late."

"Good night, Mom."

"You know I'm proud of you, don't you, Alice?"

Alice nodded. "Thanks.

"Sure, sure," she heard while climbing up the stairs. Alice quickly peeked into her parents' room and saw her father snoring, sprawled across the expanse of the bed. She knew he had an alarm set early for the next morning.

After shutting herself in her room, Alice tucked the white, lacy covers under her chin and stared at the slightly crooked crucifix directly opposite the bed. The room was predominantly white, with dark wood furniture, the walls decorated sparsely.

The clock ticked several times as Alice threw the covers back and scraped across the floor. She grabbed the crucifix and wrenched it down from the wall, and laid it gently on the top of the dresser.

She slept a little easier that night. Alice always tended to toss at odd hours, turning at other ones.

By the next morning, when she woke, and there was an unsettling feeling, deep within herself, much heavier than the pit she usually felt.

But the damage was already done. There was no way to stop it.

* * *

 **Thank you for all of those who have reviewed or showed interest in my story. I was thinking about my story and feel like I didn't really give you guys a whole of information. As you could maybe guess by the title, this is a multi-generational fic, starting with Dean and Alice. The series will mostly be canon, but obviously with a deeper family dimension to it. That's a huge part that I feel like I should tell you. So if that's a type of thing that turns you off, then I'm sorry if you were looking for something else in the story. If not, then I hope you'll stick around and review and enjoy.**


	3. Good Girl Gone

**When the Cradle Falls**

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 **Chapter Three: Good Girl Gone**

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It was strange to climb up and down the ivy trellis growing around her bedroom window.

It was something Alice never would have even dreamt of doing. Now, she was doing it several times of a week. Each time she left, she expected her parents to be standing in the yard in their bathrobes, tapping their foot, the same true when she climbed back into the bedroom.

But tonight was not that night. Alice quietly slipped in through her cracked bedroom window and slid between the covers, still wearing the tight turtleneck and suede skirt-two new pieces she kept hidden under her dresser.

She laid awake all night, but not due to the excitement of being with Dean-not this time. Her mind was dredging up anxieties she couldn't lay to rest. Ending up zoning out every time Dean opened his mouth, Alice said she wasn't feeling well and ran away in the dark before Dean had the chance to walk her home.

Dozing in and out, Alice finally felt she tipped over the edge into Dreamland when the annoying buzzing of her alarm clock protruded in the warm cocoon of sleep.

Blindly groping the nightstand, Alice's hand smacked around for the snooze bar, instead effectively knocking the clock under the bed, alarm still blaring.

Mumbling under her breath, bleary eyed Alice rolled off the bed and on her knees scrambled to turn off the alarm before one of her parents came in and yelled at her. If they saw her, messy haired, smudged makeup, and such tight clothing, they'd accuse her on becoming a lady of the night-a phrase she'd heard them use before.

Wanting to scratch her brain from the noise, Alice ended up yanking the cord from the wall and kicking the clock further underneath her bed.

Standing in front of the vanity, Alice very sloppily wiped off some makeup only to apply more. She ran a brush through her hair twice. On the way down the stairs, Alice slipped on some clogs with embroidered flowers on them and a patchy windbreaker in some horrendous colors. She quietly maneuvered around the front door, not wanting to have to face either of her parents. Conveniently in the pockets of the windbreaker was a pair of black square sunglasses that Alice was sure her father got from his job.

Shoving them on her face, Alice walked, face pointed down, all the way to school and nearly smacked into Dean as he called her name.

"Whoa, Alice. Didn't know if you were coming to school today. What, are you going for a grunge look or something?"

"Late night," she muttered, passing Dean, bumping him out of the way.

"Hey," Dean grabbed her wrist and spun her around. "What's going on with you? Last night we were having fun and all of a sudden you just took off."

Wrenching her wrist from his grasp, Alice whipped off the sunglasses, eyes squinting from the sudden brightness. "It's just not a good day, Dean. I don't know what to tell you. Sometimes people just have bad days and they can't explain them."

Frowning, Dean motioned to her carefully. "Allie, don't take this the wrong way, but you have a bad day more than _sometimes._ It seems like you have more bad days than good." He reached a hand out and placed in on her arm.

Alice scoffed. "Well sorry I don't have a sunny disposition. This is just how I am Dean. If you don't like that, then take a hike. You got what you wanted from me _several_ times." She physically shoved him and stomped away.

Dean let the girl go. He sat down on a ledge near the school and scratched the back of his head. He knew girls were confusing, put Alice was like a Rubik's cube inside a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle inside some stupid riddle. Still, there _had_ to be something that made her so damn emotional all the time. Dean wasn't entirely sure how often girls got their periods, but he knew it at least wasn't as often as Alice acted moody.

He thought perhaps it had something to do with the fact he could leave for good at any time. They both knew this and maybe her little episodes were just her way of not falling for him.

That was just an idea, though.

Dean didn't understand girls and resigned to the fact he never would.

* * *

She shouldn't have gone to school today. Before first hour was even over, Alice had slammed open the front door of her house, with no sudden regard to alerting her mother she was skipping school.

Let the hell fire rain down for all Alice cared.

"Hello?" Sherry Mercer called from the upstairs, head poking around the corner.

"It's just me, Mom," Alice called back, as she plopped down in the living room.

"Alice?" Sherry called again. Her footsteps echoed down the stairs. "Shouldn't you be at school? And what on God's green earth are you wearing? What happened to your hair?"

"Long night," Alice muttered. "And I wasn't feeling school today."

"You weren't 'feeling' school today? That's not how it works. You better march back there right now before I-"

"Spare me, Mom." Alice touched the back of her wrist to her forehead."

Sherry moved further into the room and took in her daughter's strange ensemble. "Alice Francine, are you... _high?"_

Alice scoffed. " _No_ , Mom."

"What have you been smoking, injecting, or sniffing?"

" _Nothing._ Seriously."

"Then you're drunk," Sherry insisted.

"No. I'm just tired."

"Well, you shouldn't have stayed up so late...is it a boy?"

Alice banged her head against the back of the chair, but let her mother think she was bluffing. "It's not a boy, Mom."

"It is a boy," Sherry confirmed quietly. Alice's eyes snapped open as Sherry sat across from Alice in another armchair. There was an empty glass tumbler on a windowsill by the chair. "I've seen that boy, the one you've been spending all your time with."

Alice didn't say anything.

Sherry wagged a finger in Alice's face. "He's a distraction, Alice. _He's_ the reason you're so tired. You need to focus less on boys and more on school. College application deadlines are in a few months-"

"It's not about him," Alice hissed quietly. "And you _know_ I'll apply to all the schools you want me to apply to and get into them and get whatever degree you tell me to get. Just let me have this one thing that isn't part of your plan for me."

"Where is all this coming from, Alice?" Sherry asked, never seeing her daughter snap out in rebellion. Alice had always been a good girl, always did as she was told, did the right thing. Alice had never spoke any objections about anything, actually seemed particularly eager.

Taking a deep breath, Alice sighed and gently reached forward, grabbing one of Sherry's hands. "Sometimes I just feel sad, Mom."

Sherry patted Alice's hand with the other. "Sure, people feel sad all the time but that doesn't you can miss school."

"Maybe sad wasn't the right word. Sometimes I just feel empty, like nothing really matters." Alice looked at Sherry with the next words she spoke. "Sometimes it just makes me want to lay in bed all day and not think about anything."

Retracting her hand suddenly, Sherry grabbed the glass on the windowsill and stood. She smoothed out her robe. "You're going to school, young lady."

Alice just sighed in aggravation, knowing damn well she was going to school.

"I don't want to catch one more glimpse of that boy, Alice. You better straighten yourself out and end things with him. Your whole future is on the line here."

"Oh don't be so dramatic. One boy isn't going to make a difference."

"Go to school _now_ or you'll be in a world of trouble when you get home, young lady. And watch your tone with me." Sherry gave her a stern glare, keeping the gaze until Alice had slammed the door behind her, to leave for school a second time that day.

* * *

Dean spotted Alice again in the hallways a couple times that day. He wanted to know what she was doing back there. As he was about to approach her, a hall monitor came by and told Alice to take off the sunglasses. She took them off and put them right back on as soon as the hall monitor walked away.

But in that moment, Dean caught a few shimmering droplets around her eyes as she tried very hard not to look at the hall monitor.

Dean's experience with crying girls was mostly limited to him breaking up with them, but that normally never phased him. Seeing Alice crying in the middle of the hallways really freaked him out, causing him to backpedal down the hall in the opposite direction of his glass, the direction Alice was walking.

He'd never known a girl to cry like that, walking around the halls like some damned spirit looking for peace that would never come.

Maybe it was partially due to the fact the girls Dean tended to go for were always among the happier variety, the ones near the top of the totem pole that never had anything to be sad about, especially when she had Dean Winchester's arm around her shoulder.

But Alice was technically near the bottom of the pile, but could've been higher if she tried a little harder, wanted it a little more. She was satisfied with being another face, another forgettable.

All those other girls all wanted to be something, have their names in lights, or wanted everyone to adore them.

Alice didn't want any of that.

And Dean didn't know what to do with that. It wasn't what he was used to.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought suddenly, shaking his head to forget about the girl whose depths he couldn't seem to understand.

* * *

Like he was supposed to, Sam waited for Dean to walk him back from school. However, like he wasn't supposed to, the younger Winchester eventually got fed up with waiting, figuring Dean was screwing around with Alice somewhere, and Sam wasn't about to wait for a smug Dean with messed up hair and wrinkled clothes to come around and clap him on the back, making some comment about how women were God's gift to the earth, and how Dean was God's gift to all women.

 _You'll understand when you're older,_ Dean would say, and ruffle Sam's hair.

What Dean didn't understand was that Sam _got it._ He got it perfectly, probably better than most other middle schoolers, unlike them, Sam had perspective; he could see how very quickly something seemingly good could go south. Because as Sam saw it, he could never have anything meaningful when he was always the kid that gave the new kid from the beginning of the year a reprieve for a couple weeks, a couple months at the most. Nothing was permanent in his life, and while that meant it was easier to fool around and not take anything too seriously, that could only be fun for so long. It was exhausting having to adjust to something new _all the damn time._ Sam was tired of it.

It was in the middle of a yawn, that's when the shove came. Sam's hand was a hand dragging down his face, thinking about the lumpy motel bed with a certain amount of longing.

"Hey _Wizz-_ chester."

Sam's brain rolled it's eyes. _Wow, never heard that one before._

Turning, Sam irately took in the two boys who had descended upon him, a pair of grunts with a combined IQ of ninety, if they were lucky. He recognized them as eighth graders, one of them Alice Mercer struggled to tutor in every subject possible. It would've been easier to teach a rock to do somersaults.

"What do you want?"

"Is it true you're Dean Winchester's brother?" One of them asked, lips baring to reveal a pair of crooked teeth encased in metal.

"Well nothing gets past you two," Sam muttered, turning to walk away from the geniuses. He could feel himself losing brain cells just being in their presence.

"Hey! Don't walk away from us!" One of them grabbed Sam by the shoulder and dragged him back to the duo.

"I'll repeat it slowly this time: what do you want?" Sam enunciated the words patronizingly, a tone neither of the boys picked up on.

"Is it true your brother has banged Alice Mercer?"

They didn't wait for Sam to respond before continuing. "Because we've been hearing rumors that the new guy from the high school managed to get into her pants. We were wondering if your brother would be interested in showing us his ways." Sam scoffed at how reverently these idiots spoke of Dean. These were the kind of subspecies apes his brother inspired.

"Not even my brother could help you idiots. You guys are better just screwing yourselves-or each other." With that, Sam turned with a certain finality, until one of the incensed boys grabbed Sam's shoulder and sent a slow-motion fist toward Sam's face.

Hardly breaking a sweat, Sam grabbed the fist and twisted the boy's arm, sending him to his knee. Once down, Sam sent a knee to the boy's face, collapsing him to the ground. The other ran at Sam stupidly, who he clotheslined and then kicked in the side for good measure.

He stared at the two groaning idiots before turning on his way.

Sam couldn't seem to recall why he wasn't allowed to walk back to the motel alone.

* * *

In the middle of his geometry problem set, the phone between the two beds rang. Sam sat for a moment and waited until the third ring before picking it up. "Yeah?"

"Sammy."

"Dad," he sighed, one hand twirling the chewed on pencil. He squinted at the challenge problem and scoffed in response.

"I'm going to be the motel in a couple days. Finally killed the last of those sons-of-bitches. Make sure you have everything packed by this weekend. There's another case and I want to get on the road."

"Yes, sir," Sam intoned robotically.

"Is Dean there? I want to talk to him."

"Uh...Dean's not here right now." Sam looked around the empty motel room, partially expecting Dean to pop up at his father's voice.

"Where is he?"

"At the store, buying food for tonight."

"Okay...well, write down this number and have him call me after nine o' clock tonight." Sam jotted down the number and once told his father he would pass on the order to Dean.

When the call ended, Sam set the phone back in the cradle and slowly dragged his eyes over the sad, empty motel that part of him felt comfortable enough to call home. The room was in a horrid state-as they never let the maids to come in-piles of trash in the corners of the room, grains of salt caught in the cracks of wood, silver objects hidden under deflated pillows. The whole place reeked of pizza crusts and holy water-which surprisingly had a very distinct, thin smell to it.

But it was just another room. There was nothing particularly special about this one. It wasn't tackily decorated, but also wasn't one of the nicer ones. It was a room Sam was prone to forget in a few weeks time.

To him, the motel, the school, and just the entire experience in Broken Bow was underwhelming, not something worth remembering.

* * *

Dinner that night made Alice want to jump off a cliff.

Sherry Mercer pulled a flaky, dry meatloaf out of the oven as Alice-now in clothing her mother found more appropriate-took a seat and glared harshly into the warped wood table. Her father, James Mercer, already sat at the head of the table, face hidden behind a newspaper, as per usual.

"Jim," Sherry muttered sweetly, with a sick timbre, "Put the newspaper away."

"Sure. Let me just finish this article. Really fascinating stuff. It's about-" There was the sound of ripping and crumpling paper as Sherry wrenched the object from her husband's hands. She threw it, which didn't go far, but fell to the ground with a thump, like a small bird.

"No reading at the table." Three glasses, plates, and sets of silverware were slammed down on the table. There was a final ring as the steaming tin the meatloaf was in found its way to the middle of the table.

"Sherry...is something wrong?" Jim Mercer cautiously slid the plate closer to himself.

"Ask your daughter if you're so curious."

Jim's eyes swiveled to Alice. In a rare occasion, he made eye contact with her. "Alice? What's she talking about?"

Hands gripped the table, Alice glared at her mother. "She's probably referring the boy I've been seeing. Mom claims that's why I've been acting not like myself."

Jim Mercer frowned. "You're seeing a boy?"

"No," Sherry offered. "Alice is just fooling around with him. I've seen him, Jim. You need to tell Alice to focus on her schoolwork."

"Well, I haven't noticed Alice acting any differently," Jim offered. He then made eye contact with Alice for a few seconds. "You should probably do what your mother says and stop seeing the boy if that's affecting your schoolwork."

"It's not affecting my schoolwork," Alice muttered, wishing very deeply she had a sibling to draw some attention away from her

"I don't want you seeing that boy," Sherry snapped back. She slapped a dehydrated piece of meat on Alice's plate.

"It's not Dean's fault I feel like this!" The clinking of silverware stopped and both parents stared at their daughter like she had grown a second head. This wasn't the girl either of them were used to seeing.

"'Dean?' Well you tell 'Dean' to-"

"Tell him what Mom? Why don't you tell him? I don't have anything I need to say to him!"

"Alice…" Jim started.

"What, Dad? You always take her side." Standing up from the table, Alice shoved the chair in forcefully. "You two always act like I'm the worst daughter ever. If I do one thing wrong you act like I went and got arrested or something. You guys don't know how lucky you are. I'm _such_ a good kid. I've done everything you told me to do and always kept my mouth shut."

Sherry's face was a bright red, jaw clenched. Jim's eyes were wide, his full attention on Alice.

"So this is what's gonna happen," Alice informed, taking up an uncompromising tone. "I'm going to keep _seeing_ Dean. But, I'll do everything else you say. I'll stay on top of my schoolwork, tutor more, apply where you want me to apply, go where you want me to go, do what you want me to do, eat what you want me to eat, and be the way you want me to be." She stopped, hands gripped painfully. "But I'm going to take this one thing."

And with that, Alice grabbed her coat the was near the back door and stormed past the kitchen table, through the living room to the front hall.

Up from the table, Sherry sent out a warning. "Alice Francine, you better not walk out of this house. So help me God-" There was a powerful slam that shook the entire house, sending Sherry back into her chair.

The couple sat in silence for a moment. Sherry eventually stood and began to forcefully gather everything laid out on the table. She carelessly placed the clean cutlery and plates in the sink. With a certain level of finality, she took the tray the meatloaf was in and dumped it on top of everything in the sink.

"Sherry," Jim mumbled, still contemplating everything that happened, glancing back at the crumpled newspaper on the ground.

"Don't. Just don't. You can't take my side, huh? Not even once? Nice, James, real nice."

"Sherry, come on." Jim finally stood up from the table and went over to wrap Sherry in a hug.

With a shove, Sherry sent him away. "Don't you dare."

Once Jim was alone in the kitchen, he stared at everything and wondered how he went from a peaceful family meal with his wife and daughter, to standing alone in a kitchen in complete disarray.

He'd obviously missed something. Jim Mercer just wasn't sure what.

* * *

Dean had stopped at the room briefly, just to make sure Sammy was okay. He'd apologized for not walking him back earlier that day, to which Sam replied he didn't need to be walked back to the room.

Feeling slightly guilty, Dean said he was going out for awhile but promised to bring Sam back curly fries, at the younger boy's coerced request.

That was also when Sam informed Dean their father would be returning in a few days.

In the quiet, foggy streets of Broken Bow, Dean walked, hands buried deeply in his pockets. It was the kind of setting that Dean could easily see someone smoking a cigarette as they pensively contemplated life. But Dean had tried cigarettes a handful of times and hated it. And he certainly wasn't going to pensively contemplate life like some pansy. He was going to just walk.

Now Dean didn't believe in fate, but he sure didn't believe in coincidences either, so when a pale figure appearing over the curve of the earth, hair dewy from the mist, and a halo effect from the soft lights crowning her head, he didn't really know what to think.

She didn't notice him, her head was down, hands swinging furiously at her sides.

"Alice."

Looking up, the girl didn't seem all the surprised to see Dean wandering the streets at such a time, right in the path she was walking.

Not wasting any time, Alice purposefully walked towards him and placed her hands on either side of his face. She leaned in and gave him the slowest, most sensual kiss he had possibly ever received. Leaning back, she smiled slightly, any remnant of anger gone. "Perfect."

"What are you doing out here?" Dean asked, slightly out of breath.

"Just walking and thinking."

"You probably shouldn't be walking alone this late at night."

Alice laughed a bit. "Nothing happens in Broken Bow. And you really want to talk about why I'm out here?" She leaned him and kissed him again. "Well?"

"Oh God no," Dean growled in her ear. He picked her up suddenly, causing her to laugh in merriment, both forgetting the events of the day.

* * *

It was the Friday after school, and Sam was back in the Broken Bow Middle School Library. He hadn't bothered to tell anyone he was leaving, teacher or student. Maybe people would notice on Monday, but by Friday, perhaps people would try to convince themselves Sam Winchester had just been a collective figment of everyone's imagination.

Looking around the quaint little library, Sam was one of the only four people there. A librarian lounged at the checkout desk, flipping through a glossy magazine. A young boy with bad teeth and a bruised ego sat a few tables away, struggling to grasp the concept of the Pythagorean theorem. Leaning over his shoulder was a girl who could be considered quite stunning now. Her hair was curled, makeup done nicely. The dress and tights she wore made her look well put together.

"No. C-squared does not equal just b-squared. Here…" Alice bent lower over the paper to help the boy that was busy staring at her face as she crossed something out on the page.

Listening with one ear, Sam half-read some YA book he'd pulled off a random shelf. He couldn't even make sense of what was going on, but carefully closed the book, when the boy being tutored thanked Alice and hugged her goodbye for a little too long, giving Sam a smug and fearful look at the same time, as he exited the library.

When the boy was finally gone, Sam rose as Alice was busy collecting her things.

"Alice Mercer?"

Spinning around, she smiled at Sam. "Sam, right?"

He nodded.

"What's up? You need help with something? Dean always told me you were really smart."

"There's something I need to tell you," Sam blurted, feeling something inside him twist at the sight of Alice's expectant face.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	4. By a Thread

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: By a Thread**

* * *

"I'll take an apple pie. Extra whipped cream, sweetheart." Dean winked at the waitress who gave him a disturbed look. She stomped away in tan loafers and a frilly apron, one hand on the back of her skirt.

Disappointed, he glanced across the lacquered red table when Alice didn't acknowledge the exchange. A finger ran along the spine of a beat up book sitting in front of her.

"You don't care that I totally just hit on waitress in front of you?"

Alice shrugged. "Guess not."

Dean chuckled. "You know, I'm kind of jealous by how much attention that book's getting." He tried to lighten the mood, but it fell flat against the cover of the book. Alice's eyes were overcast and seemed hooded today. She didn't make some comment about what a hypocrite he was.

With a sigh, she set the book into her canvas bag and began tracing patterns on the table.

The smile fell. "Not in the mood for humor, I guess. Today a serious day for you?" Occasionally, Alice would enter a funk where she was no-nonsense, dead serious. That was how she coped with having a bad day, Dean realized a little too late: doing as much as she could to exercise control, but really, it just meant shutting down. Part of Dean often felt like ending it on those days due to her lack of responsiveness, but he never did.

"It's just a day," she responded, numb.

Dean's brow furrowed and he did something uncharacteristic. He reached his hand across the table and covered hers. "What's wrong?"

She retracted her own hand and placed both below the table. "This has been a long time coming."

"What has?"

"This." She motioned vaguely.

"I don't understand."

With tiny, pale hands, Alice pushed flyways away from her face. She shuddered deeply, then looked at Dean, strongly, a fearful look in her eye. "We should break up," she informed briskly

"What?" Dean wasn't used to hearing those words. _He_ was familiar with the shapes on his tongue, but not the sound in his ears.

"Come on, Dean. Don't pretend like this wasn't going to happen soon."

"What do you mean?" He had a hard time comprehending her words, wondering if all the other girls felt this awful.

She didn't scoff like some would; she sighed tiredly-she did that a lot, Dean noticed. "I know you're leaving."

"I'm not-" She would hate to see him lie. "How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Your brother. He hangs out in the library when I tutor. He's a bright kid. A _nice_ kid. Said your dad was coming back and that you were hitting the road again. He said you don't 'do relationships.'"

"You said it sounded like something out of a novel," Dean grasped at any of the last threads of could.

She smiled carefully, still looking away from him. "Literary or reality, it still sounds like a lonely existence, maybe with bursts of happiness here or there." She glanced at him. "Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you really are a lone wolf and you see it as an adventure. Only...I don't think so." She offered a condoling hand. "I don't blame you, Dean. You make do with what you're given."

"But…"

Her hand was removed. "Regardless, I don't want to be hurt by you leaving me in the dust. It's better to get this over with now, rip the bandage off fast, don't let it linger. You know?" She stood.

"Allie, come on."

"Don't call me that."

"Allie…"

Shoving her chair back forcefully, eyes suddenly sharp, Alice snapped at him. "I don't like who I am when I'm around you. I hate what you did to me, who you turned me into," Alice spearheaded her words bluntly. Dean stopped moving and gaped at her. She swished around his grasp, cobalt sundress dancing around her thighs. Her words suddenly became cruel. "How long did you think we would actually last, the two of us? I knew I was just some girl for you to screw; I'm not an idiot, Dean, don't mistake me as one. Just know I'll be here, picking up the pieces of what you were gonna leave behind, before they fall."

Dean was standing now too. "Allie…"

"God help the next girl who crashes into you. Good-bye, Dean." She left, the bell above the door jingling cheerily.

Dean followed her, forgetting the apple pie. He jogged after her on the pavement and grabbed her forearm, snagging her towards him. "It doesn't feel right to leave it like this," Dean begged. Alice was always so hot and cold that he didn't actually think she could be serious. She wanted him to chase after her.

Her eyes darkened. "Does anything ever feel right?"

"I don't-"

"I'm cutting you loose, Dean. I know you aren't used to someone snapping the line before you, but just know you haven't completely broken my heart yet. You didn't have your hooks in _that_ deep, so don't feel too bad."

"You're different, Allie, I swear you're different." There had been only a handful of girls he'd said that to, and each time, he meant it. "You don't really mean what you're saying."

She drew tick marks in the air. "What number am I that you've said that to? Sure, I may be a lot more...wholesome than the girls you probably go for. Was it fun for you to break me?" Could _she_ break while her heart didn't? "And you can bet I mean every damn word."

"Allie, come on." He stared at her pleadingly, feeling a sharp pain in his chest at her accusations. None of it made sense. She wasn't making sense.

Suddenly sweet again, she tiptoed towards Dean. "Why do you act like this, Dean?" she asked breathily.

"Like what?" He instinctively leaned closer to her.

"You're not a bad guy, Dean, but if you keep acting like the villain, one day you will be. I know I was just some lay for you, but maybe one day you'll find a girl you actually love." She leaned away.

Confused, he just shrugged.

She didn't say anything else.

It was in a haze Dean watched the back of her legs stomp away from him, the soles of her boots peeking with each step. A gust of wind picked up and the hem of her dress brushed dangerously high. It blew her hair sideways, and he could tell from the back some hair had gotten in her face, an indicator when her hand brushed upwards. The tote bag thumped her lower back with each little burst of a step.

Despairing, he walked back to the motel to find Sam watching TV. Dean grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, telling Sam to suck it up when the younger brother complained.

"What's your problem?" Sam muttered, hunched over a book he was barely paying attention to.

"What did you tell her, you little shit?" Dean went and stood over Sam, menacingly.

"Nothing."

 _Bullshit_ , Dean bitterly thought, picturing Sam telling Alice everything with a little smirk on his face.

Sam wailed when Dean grabbed his collar and yanked him up from the chair. "I swear I didn't tell her anything! I just told her we were leaving!"

"Why would you tell her that?" Dean growled close to Sam's ear.

Sam gained some indignant strength and shoved Dean off of himself. "Because we are."

The realization of that caused Dean to release his brother and collapse on the nearest bed. He'd been so focused on Alice breaking up with him that he almost forgot that one bit of information.

"We're leaving, Dean," Sam explained, shuffling the loose leaf paper. And she'll—"

"She'll be here. I know." The older brother flopped back on the bed and stared at the mildewy ceiling.

That time the next day, the only ceiling Dean would be staring at was that of the Impala.

* * *

 **Just a short chapter I had written awhile back and really wanted to get published. Regardless of how short, this chapter is very critical in setting up the rest of the tale. Review! Fav! Enjoy!**


	5. Below the Waves

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Below the Waves**

* * *

This was not the girl that would go to college to become a doctor. This was not the girl that carved hours out of each day to tutor middle schoolers in basic math. This was not the girl.

This was not Alice Mercer.

At least, not anymore.

It had been weeks upon weeks since a twister had blown through Broken Bow and snapped and shattered everything Alice had-not that she could've called it her own in the first place. The careful mask of a life she willingly paraded was gone.

This twister that blew through had been of the figurative kind. It had been a boy. But not just a boy; Alice couldn't make that claim anymore.

Dean Winchester had unrooted something very deep within Alice's foundation, and planted something in its place.

This new thing that he left behind knocked Alice clean off her feet; it caused her to see the world through much darker shades, nearly black, since she had already seen the world with tinges of a deep cobalt. Her waking hours were spent plunged at the bottom of arctic waters, so swallowed up, no sunlight could permeate her location.

A blurrier, icier vision lent itself to parallel patterns of thought. Drowning became a prime slice of cognitive real estate that spread itself like slime across Alice's mind. She would walk the halls of school, feeling as though damp cotton was shoved in her ears, thick gauze shoved down her throat, an accidental bump feeling like a bullet going half as fast as if underwater, but hurting twice as bad.

The few popular friends she'd cultivated when he had been here were back to acting like she didn't exist in their eyes. And the few acquaintances she'd had before he came didn't recognize her anymore. There just wasn't enough room to care about that anymore.

The yellow house on the street named after a tree was soon inhabited by three spirits. After one massive fight, the remaining weeks were followed by absolute silence. Jim Mercer hid behind any print he could find, staying out and working longer and longer. Sherry Mercer allotted herself to an even more inefficient mode of being a housewife, spending more time with her vices. Alice Mercer imploded any chances she had at an academic future, mind whirring about nothing.

It was in this catatonic state, Alice found herself at the shore of the river that ran through the town, one early morning, instead of school. The pebbled shore was deeply embedded in a pine forest that was a sanctuary of the park district.

As if waking up from a fever dream, Alice shed the heavy black trench coat, letting it fall onto the uneven ground. She wore a chunky cable-knit sweater, jeans that were far too tight, and an old pair of heavy work boots. Her face had an ashen pallor. It had been that way for weeks.

Edging near where the water met the shore, Alice kept stepping until the boots were nearly up to her ankle. The water here was glassy, calm, and shallow. That further muddled her scrambled mind. Surely, going to the murky reservoir on the edge of town would have been more effective.

But instead, some sunken part of her mind had taken her here, giving her a spark of hope that died almost immediately.

It had been easy to turn to religion for comfort when the most complicated part of Alice's life was a difficult essay she had to write. However, now the prayers she sent up felt hollow and empty. She still believed, but just couldn't find any solace in it. The loving God she once knew had turned cold, and she wondered if He had always been like that. It wasn't as if she were asking for a miracle to fix her life, but just some strength to fill her sapped reserves.

But there was just silence, barely an echo of her pleas, piety slowly lessening.

Truly alone, there was no mercy for her.

To satiate the hopelessness, Alice once again turned to her fixation on drowning. She wanted to know what it felt like to be completely enveloped in something, something much more powerful than what was already dragging her down.

Ceremonially, Alice trudged forward in what felt like sludge. The waterlogged boots became heavy and caused her feet and ankles to shiver. Fighting to the center of the river, it only came up to her chest, but felt the chill right down to the marrow in her bones.

The pull of the river was so slight, that Alice could stand solidly and not be rushed away.

Before she could kneel so her head would go under the water, there was a shout from the shore.

"Hey! Hey what are you doing?"

Her eyes honed in on an old man in rubber boots and overalls, a fishing pole in one hand, other arm waving at her from the shore. She stared at him for a moment, but continued to stand, not ready to kneel yet.

"Get out of there! You know how cold it is?" Alice didn't seem to register what he was saying. "Oh for the love of God," the man muttered. He dropped the pole at the shore and dipped into the frigid water, wading after her.

It was only when the man began to tug on her arm that Alice animated. "No," she said. "No."

"Miss, you're gonna freeze if you stay out here much longer."

"Just let me do this," Alice whispered.

"Do what?" He paused and took in her state. "You came out here to kill yourself, didn't you, Miss? I'm sorry, but I'm not going to stand here and let you do that." He reached down and grunted, throwing a soaking wet Alice over his shoulder. She didn't fight back, allowing the man to haul her back to the shore.

He dropped her down next to the pole and retrieved the jacket she left on the shore. He draped it over her. "I better not see your face on the news, ever," the fisherman warned her.

"I just want it to end, before it can start."

Getting down in her face, the man grabbed her by the shoulders. "I don't know what that means, but you better stop talking like that." He removed his hands and motioned to himself. "See me? I've been beaten down by life, fallen more times than I can count. _You_ don't get an easy way out. It's just such a waste if you kill yourself, Miss. See, life is the messiest thing ever, but it's also the most beautiful. And I can tell you from experience, for every heartache, there's a sunny day. You are a beautiful young woman with so much potential, and I'm telling you, you need to take a good long look in the mirror until you see that."

"My parents won't even look at me."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"No one like that is worth losing your life over, Miss. Here, let me drive you home."

"I can't go back there," Alice said numbly.

"You can and you will. You're gonna stick it out, and then as soon as you can, you're gonna leave if you have to and go make your own way in the world. You understand me?"

"I can't live the way I want. It's not worth it."

"Every life is worth saving, Miss. You find people who believe that. And you make yourself believe it."

Alice followed the fisherman to his pickup, where she slowly began to shake from the chill of the river, her sopping clothes trapping the sensation.

The fisherman blasted the heat and handed Alice a thermos of bitter, burning coffee. "I don't care if you don't like the taste, you drink that."

The car slowly heated up, and Alice started to shiver violently, involuntarily. The fisherman glanced at her as he drove.

"Please don't take me to the hospital."

"Miss, you're shivering and your mouth is blue. You're sick." That phrase caused a ripple in her stomach.

"I'm not sick," she insisted. "Just take me home. I promise I won't try this again."

The fisherman ignored her changing requests. "You know, it's a blessing that I actually decided to go out today. No one goes near that bank when it's this cold. Anyways, I was going to stay in today, but the wife insisted I get out before the river entirely freezes over. I think it's a miracle I found you when I did."

"I just wanna go home," Alice muttered, retreating even deeper within herself.

The fisherman frowned deeply, and studied her at the light they were at. He sighed deeply. "Fine. I will take you home, _if_ you promise to get help if you need it. I'm taking you home because I can tell you're tough, and you can get through this."

She didn't respond.

"Where do you live, Miss?"

She told him, and a few minutes later, one of the spirits returned to the yellow house on the street named after a tree.

The fisherman pulled up the the house and watched Alice carefully. "This it?"

She nodded. "Yes." She moved to open the door, but the fisherman stopped her.

"You promise me you won't ever do something like that again."

"I promise," she said.

He squinted his eyes at her face for a few moments. "Alright. I believe you. Miss, you go live. God bless you."

The walk to the front door was slower than the amount of time it took Alice to reach the center of the river. She was still shivering terribly, mind still believing she was standing in the frigid water.

Passing over the threshold of the house felt like passing through a membrane, a veil, into a different dimension. Here, Alice was expected to be someone different than what she actually was.

She showered, the hot water feeling as though it was sharp and frigid from the river.

The rest of the day, Alice stayed tucked in her room. Sherry was the same, in her respective room, and never even noticed Alice come in, or if she did, didn't say anything.

Like it had been, Sherry made a rather unappealing meal for dinner, while Jim stayed tucked behind the New York Times, studiously reading every black letter.

It was at the end of the meal that the flesh returned to those spirits.

"Mom? Dad?" Alice spoke.

The newspaper fluttered from Jim's surprised hands, fork and knife clattering the the plate from Sherry's. They stared at her with wide, surprised eyes.

"There's something you two should know."


	6. Yellow Gold

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Yellow Gold**

* * *

 **February 1996**

 **Ogallala, Nebraska**

* * *

It was an insane idea. A ridiculous, dangerous idea. Dean shook himself out of the reverie and propped up the pillows he was leaning against. The book on his lap was specific for the lore of Midwestern farmlands-who knew there was such a thing? Dean did, and after the introductory chapter, decided it was even worse than the never ending, flat scenery of the Heartland.

...but if he could pull it off. He just had to know _why._ He could easily be there and back before the sun was even down. The math was easy: just over a hundred miles, maybe two hours behind the wheel. The Impala was out of the question. Good thing carjacking was a sin Dean could deal with. He just wondered how long a moody, twelve-year-old Sam and a potentially drunk Dad could last without ripping at each other's throats. Ultimately, it was a risk Dean would have to make.

He wondered what kind of excuse he could come up with.

After mulling it over, Dean decided he would say he found a hunt the hundred miles away, figuring if he was found out, the crap he caught from Dad was of lesser importance than finding out the truth that had been gnawing at him for years. No matter what, he hadn't been able to stifle it. But, freshly turned seventeen, Dean couldn't wait any longer.

Luckily, there was an actual hunt close enough that it could be plausible. He got the much appreciated green light from Dad—after some serious begging and ass-kissing—who sighed in defeat and said to put the stolen car back where he found it when he returned. Sam had glared in jealously, begging Dean to let him come with.

Most definitely not.

He stole a gray sedan, conspicuous enough to not be so noticeable, but nice enough that he knew he was stealing it from someone well off, a world that wouldn't be shattered knowing their car was gone. He'd return it to the parking lot in a few days, anyways, after he put the original plates back, that is.

Dean made it there in nearly three-quarter's time. It was a stupid thing to speed in a stolen car, but he'd never been pulled over.

Once in the familiar, quaint, yet stale town, Dean parallel parked along the main street and loped his way towards the public library. He sat in the back near a phone book and ripped out the desired page.

He located a phone booth on the side of a lime-riddled brick building that bored such a vague sign, Dean couldn't even to comprehend what the building specialized in. _Not important,_ he reminded himself, popping in the correct change, pausing a moment before he typed the number.

On the second ring, a pleasant but stiff female voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hi...is Alice there?"

A long pause. "Who is this?"

"Umm...this is Dean. I went to high school with her for a while." He scratched his ear.

"Alice hasn't lived here for nearly two years. Good-bye." He swore he could hear the ringing of the woman slamming down the phone into its proper cradle. He held the payphone to his ear for a moment, contemplating the dial tone. She didn't live there? Then where the hell did she live? Did she go to college early? He knew she was smart but...he honestly didn't know what to think.

Good thing her parents were the type that would die in the first house they bought together. For a moment, Dean let himself wonder if Dad and Mom would've been like that had she still been alive. He abruptly shook off the thought and sped a few miles over to the Mercer's little house.

He hugged the car to a shallow curb and marveled how unchanged the house was. It was a butter yellow with a white porch and brown roof. Now, everything was muted slightly. The lawn and flowers had wilted slightly; paint chipped off everything; the driveway was full of pothole. He remembered sneaking in through the ivy trellised bedroom window, or watching a nervously excited Alice sneak across the lawn at midnight.

He propped open the storm door and used the brass knocker. Ever punctual, a woman with caramel hair-gray at the roots-opened the door. She wore a thin floral blouse and khaki slacks. Her shoes were pointy and shiny, hair done back in a demure bun. A silver cross necklace hung at her throat. Sherry Mercer's dull bluish gray eyes changed, seeming to connect the strange phone and house call all within one hour. "Alice doesn't live here anymore," she repeated, cementing any doubt in Dean's head that she might not know who he was.

He shrugged, standing politely from the door. "I just wanted to see her. It's been…"

"A year and a half?" Sherry Mercer offered pointedly.

"Yeah...I guess so." Only a few months short.

Sherry quirked her eyebrows, half hidden by the door. "Well, she's not here, Dean. And if you don't mind, I have some errands to run so I should be going. Thanks for stopping by."

Dean caught the door before she could slam it. "Please. Could you just tell me where she is? It's important that I see her."

The door was jerked away with surprising strength. "She lives out of state with relatives. If you would kindly never darken my doorstep again, that would be fabulous." Sherry smiled tightly, with a great level of dark undertones in her voice.

"M'am, if you could just-"

"You have fifteen seconds to get off my property before I call the police for trespassing." The door slammed.

Back at the godforsaken library, Dean pored over public records. And just as he was about to give up and actually hunt the damn monster like he said he would, he stumbled across a Breckenridge family tree-Mrs. Mercer's maiden name, as Alice had once mentioned.

Not believing his luck, Dean went back and found a Sherry Breckinridge born in mid-summer of 1951, who later became Sherry Mercer in 1974.

That wasn't what Dean was interested in, though.

Another branch on the Breckinridge tree pointed to one born in 1946, a Janet Sutton _nee_ Breckinridge, residing in Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois, right in the Gold Coast strip.

Dean gulped. It was over seven hundred miles from point A to point B, but God, he suddenly loved busybody little towns with nothing better to do than keep records of every used-to-be citizen from decades past. Vaguely, though, he wondered if his fixation with Alice was simply due to that she'd ended it before he was ready—something that had never happened before. He was pretty sure he would've dumped her eventually, but that fact she left him high and dry couldn't let him just forget her. She had her hooks deep, whether or not she wanted things that way—and whether or not he did either.

He rented a crappy hotel room and then tried to talk himself out of it over a couple of beers he bought with his fake ID, to which the bartender still scrutinized Dean's face for a couple of minutes. A wrinkled cougar in a sleazy looking sequined dress cozied up next to him and asked Dean what he was doing in a place like this. Any other day, Dean would've been the first one to jump on that, but now, he couldn't help notice her surgically enhanced assets and the leathery, inelastic quality of her skin when she ran a hand up and down his side. He felt slightly sick when she sidled up next to him.

"Really not in the mood, lady," he said rudely, throwing a Jackson onto the bar. He just scoffed when she said something about him not being able to keep it up at such a young age.

He slept for a few hours, then got behind the wheel and drove, stopping only twice.

* * *

 **Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois**

* * *

Chicago, Dean remembered, had some of the rudest motor vehiclists and some of the most entitled pedestrians. However, the closer he got to the lake, the calmer the whole city got, if that was possible. He tried to imagine small town Alice living in such a bustling place. In his mind, she was still in Nebraska and he'd made a terrible mistake driving here. This place was too uppity and stuffy for her. Looking up at the skyscrapers made him dizzy and he could only imagine Alice must have felt like they would topple onto her every time she went outside. Dean realized he was thinking about Alice like she was still the same girl from two years ago. _His_ girl, no less.

His task to locate Janet Sutton's residence took nearly two days—partially due to awful construction. But when he did, he drove down an elm-lined street that would surely shadow everything when there were leaves on the trees, but in the middle of winter, they were dead. Dean was surprised by the lack of snow, though.

Both sides of the street were lined with identical three-story brownstones. He stopped in front of one that had frilly curtains in the large picture window. The only thing that separated him from her was a squeaky, wrought-iron gate that came up to Dean's waist.

Pushing past the gate, Dean was suddenly aware how everything was encompassed in heartbeats. He breathed with them, everything happened with the _guh-lug_ of his atriums and ventricles-the only reason he knew those terms was through Sam, who had annoyingly taken to repeating his biology vocab words over and over. Shaking his head, Dean wondered why he was letting his mind wander like that. Dad always told him he was distracted easily and-

"Snap out it," he commanded to himself, slamming the brass knocker against the maroon door.

He waited a bit, impatiently tapping his foot until a woman who was definitely Sherry Mercer's sister opened the door. Janet Sutton was average height, a railish build. The roots of her hair were gray, while the wiry caramel was shot with twines of silver. She was dressed strangely, wearing an ombre shirt with flared long sleeves and wide leg jeans studded on the back pockets. Of course, Dean didn't need to have a knowledge of fashion to know this woman was not dressed the way someone fifty years old should dress.

"Mrs. Sutton?" he managed.

She raised an eyebrow. "Seven years a widow, but yes?"

"Janet Sutton?"

"I believe we've established that." Her eyes raked over him, taking in his appearance critically.

He stared, at a loss.

"It's cruel they make inner city kids solicit for the school district. A shame. Can't even talk, for one." She went to shut the door, in disappointment.

A miracle, he regained his voice and shouted, "I'm Dean Winchester!"

The door and the women froze. "Oh." The tone was low and void of any possible emotion.

"Do you know who I am?"

She reanimated. "Of course. I've heard your name many a time. Allie recently started mentioning you a lot more than she used to."

His face paled. Was this real?

"Well, are you going to put indents on my welcome mat or come in? I'm Janet, by the way, as you already know."

As he did, he said, "I just thought-"

"Thought what? I'm not Sherry, my sister. Allie is not a child anymore. I'm not going to be the one who hides that you came by. I may think I know what's best for her, but for her sake, I sure hope Allie knows what she's doing." Janet paused, eyes high. "I don't want any of that in my house."

"Any what?" Confused, Dean looked around, checked the bottoms of his shoes to see if he tracked in mud or leaves.

"Don't insult my intelligence, boy. I knew what you were when I first laid eyes on you. I mean your weapons, Winchester." She said his name like she already knew him.

"My what?"

"Drop the act. It's not cute. I know what you are. God knows only a hunter could track someone down like that."

"How do you-"

Janet shrugged and unlocked the front hall closet with a key in her pocket. She waited until he put all his weapons in there and relocked it. "Takes one to know one, son."

"Does-"

"No. Alice doesn't know. Let's keep it that way. Now, take a seat. You want anything to drink?"

 _A shot to calm the nerves?_ "No thank you." Dean sank down onto a plastic covered couch in the front room, nervously glancing from the window to Janet.

Stalling a moment, Janet kneaded her hands together. "Well then, I'll go get Alice. Wait there."

Alice Mercer was there. Dean was going to see Alice Mercer. Some sweaty, panting images flitted across his mind, but he ultimately settled on the memory of her in that bright blue dress she was wearing the last day he saw her.

"Al, you have a visitor!" Dean heard Janet yell after opening what sounded like a back door.

"Who is it?" he heard a faint, indistinct voice call back.

"Go see for yourself."

The voice got closer. "Aunt Jan, just tell me who it is." There was a playful, but slightly demanding whine in the tone.

"I won't tell you again. And if you don't want to find out who it is, then fine. Stand there letting all sorts of cold into the house."

"Oh, fine! But's it's actually very nice for a February day!" The back door slammed and loud footfalls retraced the hallway Janet disappeared.

He was seeing stars, suddenly afraid it wouldn't be Allie, but another person pretending to be her. Maybe, he was crazy and in some djinn's dream, one that fabricated Allie completely. But the greatest fear of all was that she wouldn't be how he remembered, that she wouldn't remember him, and above all, that she would repeat two years before and tell him she never wanted to see him again _again._

 _He just had to know._

He heard the soft voice, full of wonder before he saw her. "Dean."


	7. Cara

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Cara**

* * *

There she was. Alice Mercer. Allie. Dean's lips parted as he drunk in every inch of her appearance.

Her hair was longer, but appeared duller. She seemed slightly heavier, but in a good way, like she'd filled out, now with an hourglass shape, made apparent by the skirt cinched at her waist, and the billowy shirt hanging low. The silver necklace was still at place around her neck, much similar to the one her mother wore. The fact she was barefoot made her a million times more ethereal. However, her skin looked chalky and if it wasn't for the spark in her eyes, Dean would've thought she was sick. Was that why she got sent away? Because she was sick?

Dean was suddenly very afraid.

"Allie?"

A light sigh. "Don't call me that," the playful voice responded.

He stood woodenly and moved towards her slowly, worried she would scurry away like a frightened deer.

Seeing this, she said, "Dean, it's okay. I'm not going to break." She moved quickly and hugged him tightly. Dean returned the embrace with an equal vigor.

They pulled away, but Dean's hands lingered on her arms, eyes on her face. "Allie."

She laughed and looked down bashfully. Dean could tell she was much more confident and comfortable in her own skin, not as awkward, more aware of how she moved and looked. But it wasn't like she ever had anything to be shy about. Maybe she'd finally seen that. For the first time, he thought their being apart was good for her.

"Wow," she cooed lowly, a hand to his cheek. "Look at you, Dean. Wait—shouldn't you be in school?"

He smiled proudly. "Got my GED last month. Couldn't stand that place anymore."

She responded with a wide smile. "Good for you, Dean! I always knew you were smart. And you're all grown up, I see." Only could a comment on dropping out of high school be a compliment from her.

"I could say the same for you." He chuckled, putting his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, not really thinking about what he was doing.

She evaded him gracefully and removed his hands from her, still holding them in her tiny ones. "It's good to see you, Dean. It really is." She sobered up and stared at him intently. "Ever since I left Broken Bow, I've been thinking of getting in contact with you, somehow." She looked to the side. "I guess you answered my prayers."

A tad unsure, he nodded. "I thought you never wanted to see me again."

She shrugged, eventually sitting on an armchair across the coffee table. "At the time I thought it was best; I'll admit I was a wreck." Her smile faltered for a moment. "But, even when I moved here with Aunt Jan, I was still really lonely. Even though I've been happier than ever, Dean, I guess something was missing." Dean couldn't ever remember a time when Allie was this open to talking.

"Why did you leave?" He finally asked. _Why did you leave me?_

"I had my reasons." With a sneaky, nervous smile, Alice stood. "I'll be right back."

She came back a few minutes later alone, suddenly intrigued with the weather. "It's been a lovely, winter, actually. Which I'm grateful for. I mean, look at me; my legs are so pale, but I'm thankful I've been able to enjoy wearing a skirt for the past few days." Oh, Dean _definitely_ noticed her legs.

"It's that why you left? The weather?" He doubted it.

She laughed easily. "Just making small talk, Dean." She gotten better at that, as well. She wasn't so tense anymore.

Suddenly serious, Alice moved closer to him. "This is why I left. I always wondered how you would react, not sure whether or not to tell you. But you're here now so that must mean something...Aunt Jan?"

Janet appeared from around the corner, a hesitant smile on her face.

But Janet wasn't the one Dean was looking at.

A little, brown haired baby in a lavender dress rested on Jan's hip. The thing had dark brown eyes and looked incredibly tiny and fragile.

"Alice?" Dean asked, unsure, disillusioned to what was going on.

"Dean, this is why I left." Alice went over and took the baby from Janet. She approached him slowly and stood near his side, the baby angled away from him.

"Is it…?"

"She's mine, yes," Alice said. She could tell he would need it spelled out to him. "And she's also yours, Dean."

* * *

He didn't pass out, but Dean momentarily lost control of his limbs and flopped back onto the couch, the plastic making a popping sound when he hit it. Glassy-eyed, he stared up at the wooden rafters and wondered what he was doing, wishing a ghost would appear because then, he would know what to do and how to handle it. Hunter-mode just didn't cut it in a situation like this. "A...are you sure it's mine?" He stuttered.

Incensed, Alice looked ready to smack him for a moment. "There not even a minute possibility _she_ could be someone else's," she countered. Dean vaguely wondered if maybe Alice was waiting for him, or if he had pushed her to do something she wasn't ready to do-it wasn't something he'd ever thought of that as.

He struggled to comprehend the situation as Alice explained how she found out she was pregnant and wanted to hide it from Dean.

"I know how you were," she said. "I figured you would've left either way. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'll understand if you want to get up and leave right now and never come back. I won't hold that against you." She never did and never would.

Dean swallowed thickly and stared at Alice in utter amazement. She was a woman now, even though it had been less than a year and a half since he'd last seen her in that blue dress, as she walked out of his life-he thought. Now, here she stood, a mother holding her child. _His daughter._

"What's her name?"

Shocked, Alice asked him to repeat himself.

"Her name. What is it?"

Allie's mouth spread open wide. "Cara Clementine. It's Cara."

"Cara." It was like learning a new word in a different language.

"Yes. That's right." Alice moved closer with the tiny baby. Cara was silent, staring intensely at Dean. She looked confused and puzzled, but not like she was about to cry.

He stared intently at her face, not really sure what he was expecting the baby to do, obviously not say "hello" or anything like that. But her unwavering stare was enough to spook him out of the house.

Without a word, Dean spun sharply on his heel and slammed the maroon door behind him. The squeaky gate squealed in protest as his side slapped against it, doing his best to put as much distance between himself and that house as he could. Dean found himself breathing heavy against the stolen car, hands vibrating in his pockets.

It almost made him panic-not only the little person in there, but also the fact he was reacting this way. Never had Dean frozen up on a hunt, or even felt shaky nerves. He'd always been a natural, even since the first ghost he shot.

But _this_ was something different. His first instinct was to reach for his gun, but Jan had his gun locked in the front hall closet, and two: a freaking _baby._

It was indefinite amount of time that he was there, the segment broken up by Alice appearing in his line of vision, sans baby. She crouched down in front of him. "Dean?" Her hand wavered near his face, but she didn't touch him.

However, Dean reached out and took her hand, needing some sort of anchor to reality, as screwed up as that might be. "Alice."

"I'm here, Dean," Alice assured. She put her other hand on his face.

Taking several deep breaths and squeezing Alice's hand, Dean eventually cleared his head enough to stand up properly, helping Alice up from a crouch.

"So…" Dean began, not really sure what to say, what he _could_ say.

"Yeah?" Alice chuckled, turning her head to the side. "I know. It's a lot."

"But _how?"_

She shrugged. "We were stupid. More than once."

Running a hand through his hair, Dean scoffed. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he responded, remembering.

Alice crossed her arms. "But it's like I didn't even think about that when I was with you. Like I was under a spell. I felt like that for weeks after you left." Alice from a year and a half ago never would have admitted that. This new Alice was more confident, comfortable.

"You seem well," Dean offered.

She shrugged. "Took me awhile to get here."

"It must've been a shock."

Alice nodded. "Almost didn't believe it. Felt like I was trapped in a bad dream. I would say I wasn't myself, but I was. But, I'm here now with a daughter I love."

Dean didn't say anything.

"I know it was a mistake, but Dean, Cara was honestly the best thing that ever happened to me." She watched his reaction. "So, I can't do anything but thank you."

She was thanking him for ruining her life? Dean couldn't help but wonder why.

Alice continued. "I'm so glad you're here, Dean, and I'm sure this wasn't at all what you were expecting to find. Maybe you were expecting closure, or something else, but I am not that girl that left you. You can't have only me like you used to.

"So, like I said, I'll understand if you want to walk away. I won't stop you, and just know that you're always gonna have a part of my heart, whether or not I want you to."

Dropping the hand from his hair, Dean despaired about what to say. "Alice, it's just that...I'm a _kid._ I can't _have_ a kid."

"Trust me Dean, I know. I was still a kid too." He couldn't tell if she was pleading with him or simply agreeing.

With a deep breath, Dean made a decision.

He straightened up and nodded once at Alice.

She raised her eyebrows, expectantly.

"Okay, Alice, I'll come inside."

* * *

Back inside, Jan sat with Cara on her lap. The older woman scrutinized Dean, looking to Alice for confirmation. Eventually, Jan relinquished Cara to her mother, and the older woman excused herself from the room.

Finally alone, Dean glanced at Alice, trying very hard to stay composed. "Can I hold her?" Not trusting himself to stay standing, Dean took a seat on the plastic-covered couch.

Alice giggled within herself and happily accepted. She sat beside Dean and expertly but lovingly maneuvered the baby so Cara's head rested against the place where Dean's arm met his shoulder. The baby's eyes were on her mother, who watched the father, who watched his child.

A father.

 _If_ Dean wanted it.

But suddenly, Cara's eyes shifted to Dean, and there was no _if_ to be had.

It happened as cliched as Dean had heard.

With a breath of realization, Dean was aware he had to become a man, whether or not he was ready or wanted to be. He _had_ to be for this little baby that was so half him and Allie. He understood how something so pure could come from her, but from _himself..._ the fact that Cara was half Dean and had manifested itself into a tiny _real_ human with eyes and little hands and a rabbit-quick beating heart. He didn't know this baby, but she was part of him. He didn't necessarily unconditionally love her in that moment, but he could feel the great potential for it-he still felt a little hesitant, because unconditionally loving this child meant something huge. However, he could say that he did love this little thing to some extent. After all, he'd only known of her existence for a few moments, and she seemed like she would evaporate like a mirage. He just couldn't help but marvel how something he always enjoyed for fun could end up in something like Cara. He didn't mean that in a bad way, but he often forgot making love had the functionality of procreation.

And he always thought in a situation like this, he'd cut and run.

Almost had, actually.

Maybe he didn't know himself as well as he thought.

"She knows her daddy's here," Alice suddenly said, snapping Dean back to reality.

The comment made Dean want to look around for a minute, almost forgetting Alice was speaking about him.

"This is crazy," Dean whispered.

Alice burst out laughing. "You're preaching to the choir, Dean. Everyday, I still wake up and wonder what the hell I think I'm doing, but then, I walk over to her crib and fall in love with her again each day. She reminds me why."

"Yeah…" Dean cleared his throat and started again. "Yeah, I guess I could see that."

Alice smiled at him, and that's how it went.

It might have sounded like a bad joke, Dean nestled on the couch with his newly discovered daughter and the woman he thought he would never see again.

Then maybe it was the greatest cosmic joke ever pulled, but it was all right.

Because Dean was the one who got the last laugh.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! Another very pivotal chapter! Please review and let me know what you think! I want to thank everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed. It really means a lot!**


	8. Tango and Duo

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Tango and Duo**

* * *

He wasn't completely upright, even John Winchester, himself could admit he wasn't completely in balance, completely sober. John leaned heavily against a mothball-scented couch, the volume of his voice hurting his own head. "You told me three days Dean. It was three days _YESTERDAY!"_ He knew it had been a bad idea to let his seventeen-year-old son to go on a hunt by himself, but Dean had caught John on a day when he was a happy drunk, which rarely happened. In a cloudy state, John reasoned Dean had watched Sam his entire life, proven himself to be a capable, level headed hunter, and had gotten his GED, so why not?

John was sorely regretting this decision now.

"Sir, I know. I just need a couple more days. The spirit-"

" _Damn it Dean,_ I want you back here _tonight."_ John slammed a fist down on the couch.

"Look, Dad, I can't just leave the-"

"That's a direct order, Dean. I guess I was wrong about you being able to handle a hunt by yourself."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Yes sir, but please just give me a chance to kill the spirit. Please. I promise I won't let you down. Dad, please let me do this. I'll clean weapons for the next three months if you let me. Please." It was strange to hear Dean beg. Even inebriated John could tell Dean was really yearning for this chance.

Scrubbing a hand over the several days' scruff, John blew a hot breath into the hand and tried to banish the image of Mary burning on the ceiling. That was the first thing that came to mind when he thought of her. It took a few seconds of orange flames before John could picture her in anything but that white nightgown with the bloody stain on the front.

"Make it five months," John sighed, completely forcing away any thought of Mary.

There was a gasp of appreciation. "Thanks Dad!" Dean chirped maybe a little too happily and hung up the phone.

It was a few moments later John realized he was face down on the couch. Not remembering how he ended up in such a position, the man swung himself up and found a wide eyed Sam edging around the partition that divided the beds from the kitchenette.

"Go to bed, Sammy," John slurred. He looked down at the half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, wondering when that got there.

Sam just continued to stare at his father; eyes going from the bottle, to John's face.

"Is Dean not coming back?"

"He's still hunting the damn ghost," John replied, taking another swig from the drink.

"Dad, maybe you should go to bed," Sam suggested.

" _You_ go to bed. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"It's Saturday, Dad."

"Don't be a smartass, Samuel."

"No sir, didn't mean to be," Sam responded robotically, clenching his jaw while staring determinedly at the ground.

John took another long swig and gestured to his son. "Was there something else you needed?" He was totally unaware of the razor edge that hitched itself to the tone of his voice.

The youngest Winchester's eyes grew wide and hopeful, as an unexplained desire embedded itself within Sam's heart. But Sam noticed his father's stone cold eyes and the slowly dwindling supply of alcohol. "No sir."

"Then go to bed." John Winchester flopped back on the couch, eyes shutting.

* * *

He stayed. He fought to stay, but he stayed.

Lying in bed with a ruffle comforter, Dean suddenly shot up in bed, clutching at his heart, and peering at the menacingly blank ceiling. Blank like in art canvas. It was in the middle of the night, Dean sprinted up from the guest room Jan had let him stay in. He barged into Cara's room, the door banging.

Carefully, Dean leaned over the baby's crib, his hands curling around the dark wood bars. She was on her back, head turned to the side, one hand delicately curled near her small cupid's bow lips. He watched her chest rise and fall several times.

There was a gasp from behind him. Alice barreled into the room, in a flannel nightshirt and matching pants, hair half out of a ponytail. "Dean? What the hell is going on?" Half conscious, Alice came up next to him and put a hand to Cara's forehead. "Is something wrong? Is she okay? I heard the door slam and didn't know what it was."

"How old is she?"

"Huh?" Alice couldn't understand why Dean was asking that. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"How old is Cara?"

"What are you talking about?" Alice demanded, feelings of irritation creeping into her.

"Damn it, Allie, how old is Cara?"

"She just turned seven months old! Why? What's wrong?"

Dean suddenly slumped to the floor, back against the crib bars. Seven months. The six month mark had passed and no yellow eyed demon had cursed his daughter and burned her mother, like had been done to Sammy and Mom. Maybe his family wasn't cursed, just unlucky.

He shook his head and stood up. Not thinking, he bent over and kissed Alice on the forehead. "Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine, I swear. Sorry for waking you. Try and get some sleep."

Alice stared after him in worry, and then got up. She stood over her daughter and just watched the sweet little thing sleep. God knew Allie wasn't going to.

* * *

They sat in Allie's car after going out to dinner like two adults. They were parallel parked along a dark, rain-slicked residential street, around the block from the Italian restaurant.

It had been a nice, quaint meal. They hadn't talked about anything but superficial topics. After all, Dean was leaving the next morning to return to his father and brother. Both had avoided the subject even though the dinner had become sort of a farewell event.

Suddenly deciding not to drive away, Alice put the car back into park and turned fully to face Dean. Something had been gnawing at her mind and she couldn't let it rest anymore. She'd been able to refrain during dinner, but now, the atmosphere was somber and burnt out.

"You know, you scared the hell out of me last night."

Dean shrugged sheepishly. He tried to smile but ended up grimacing around the movement. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

She furrowed her brow, not content to leave the situation there. "But why did you need to know how old she was? You were really panicked."

He chuckled nervously and glanced at his reflection in the window of the car. Alice was still staring at him intently. "It was just a crazy dream I head. Really Allie, it's fine."

He always did this—she knew he kept secrets and she let him have his secrets. "Fine. It's fine. I'm just glad you're here. Even if it's for one more night." She paused for a moment. "But her birthday is July twelfth, by the way."

The two settled into a slowly comfortable silence while Alice munched on a leftover breadstick. She reclined her seat, slightly, relaxing a bit. Dean wanted to ask her what would happen now, but she looked so peaceful, and natural, eating a cold breadstick in a car of all things and still looking damn good.

How did this happen? How did Dean go from a renegade playboy to someone with a daughter, gazing at amazement in the woman that brought the child into this world? He swore he'd never fall for a girl like that.

But he had.

It was Alice. It was all Alice.

He'd never needed a push to sail towards her. She was so unaware of how magnetic her pull was, but Dean crashed right into her and had felt her absence a little bit now and again, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Allie," Dean said suddenly. Surprised, some crumbs from the breadstick fell on her lap. She brushed them out and turned her attention to Dean.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

With less bravado, he began again. "How do you think this happened to us?"

She looked worried. "Care to elaborate?"

"How this whole thing happened? I was the wayward punk at school and you were the shy good girl. How did the two of us ever possibly fall together so easily?"

She shrugged.

"Really, though, Alice. I mean, think about it: I seduced you with a few lines from that one boring Shakespeare play and you were like putty in my hands." He rephrased himself when he saw the indignant look in her eyes. "Maybe I'm sounding blunt, but before me, your longest relationship had been a few months and you'd only ever been felt over the clo—"

"Painfully aware, Dean. And you didn't _seduce_ me, FYI. But you want to know why I slept with you?"

He nodded, refraining from making any smartass comment.

Helplessly, she motioned around at nothing in particular. "I don't really know, honestly. I've always tried to rationalize it, but I never can. I mean I was terrified of you and didn't trust you because you were so different and confident and just had a _dangerous_ edge to yourself. Yet, I allowed myself to sleep with you.

"I always thought I'd wait to have sex until marriage but that was something I said because my parents always believed that. But Dean, you came along and _broke_ that. You broke _me,_ but in a good way I think.

"I told myself 'okay, Alice, you're going to do something wild and crazy but you're not going to get attached because you know what kind of guy this Dean character is.' I was careful not to get attached.

"Then I wound up pregnant and that honestly seemed like the perfect excuse to end it. I told myself you wouldn't be the type of guy to stick around. Even if you were to leave now I would understand. I wanted to run from myself for the longest time during the nine months.

"My parents sent me away a few months along when I finally started showing. They told everyone I had an aunt that was sick and I was going to live with her to take care of her. They were so ashamed of me, Dean.

"And God knows I love my aunt, but she's an odd one and I can't seem to relate to her.

"But, now, I have a beautiful daughter and I'm happy, but for some reason, I wanted you back, not only for Cara, but selfishly for myself.

"Dean, you were always respected me—" He remembered slightly differently. "—and was always kind to me. You never let me down and regardless of what other people say to you-or what I said about you-you're good. I'm sorry if I ever told you otherwise."

He tried not to think about the fact she never gave him a chance to let her down. That was good.

Alice frowned for a minute. "But, I can't think so selfishly anymore. I have a child I have to think of. The motherly part of me says I never should have told you about Cara because how is that fair to her. I know it's not fair to you-actually, maybe part you never wanted to know. You're still young and have the whole world ahead of you." Dean wanted to protest, but she wasn't entirely wrong. He still wasn't sure how to explain what he was feeling.

"The same part that wants to keep you from her for her own sake. I never thought I'd be a single teen mom raising a girl who would never know her dad. I could spin it that you left when I told you I was pregnant, but I would be lying to her. I could tell her I never told you-that was true until now. I could tell her I forbid you from seeing her, but you wanted to. Or I could let you be a small part of her life and flit in and out as I know you will. Whichever way, she'll end up resenting one of us or both of us. I'm just trying to figure out which was causes the least amount of pain for her. Dean, Cara's needs come first every time now."

Dean licked his lips. "Alice, I agree with you. That little girl comes first. Now, I'm not saying we need to figure out what to do exactly right now. But what I'm saying is, you still have needs and they still matter."

Ever-knowing, Alice clicked her tongue and looked away in disappointment. "I don't know what I want from you and I feel it's unfair for you to have to deal with me being so bipolar about so many things."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "It's a _different_ situation." He stared at her intently. "Maybe we can be different people this time."

She smiled softly, seeming to accept his offer.

For awhile, the Dean and Alice forgot they two teens in a 1984 green car outside a fake Italian restaurant that had red and white checkered table cloths made of paper. The two even forgot the little lifeline that held them together, sleeping peacefully in a crib, a few miles away.

It was just as the first time, as sweet and as tender and naive.

Unlike the first time, they thought they knew, but like the first time, they would learn they didn't.

* * *

 **This chapter kind of jumped around a little bit. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and review.**


	9. The Overlap of Worlds

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: The Overlap of Worlds**

* * *

John Winchester didn't get hungover. Hadn't since Mary. Even if he fell asleep blackout drunk, he would wake up with the open or close of any door, he swore. So when the motel room quietly shut, John sat up abruptly from the bed and felt himself swaying as his vision blurred. Sam's hand was still curled around the doorknob. Dean stood in the doorway, kicking off the boots he wore, setting the army green duffle bag on the ground. He reached out to ruffle Sammy's hair, the younger brother swatting away the affectionate gesture.

"Dean," John muttered. He slowly stood and tried to make himself appear upright. He tried to flatten his greasy hair. A pizza crust fell out of the pocket of his shirt.

"Dad," Dean responded dopily. He dropped the syrupy smile for a straight face, yearning for a break in the sameness of the expression, but knowing very well the repercussions of cracking a smile, at the risk of looking like a smart ass. "I ganked the ghost," Dean said.

"You disobeyed a direct order."

"Yes sir," Dean intoned, seemingly unaffected. This infuriated John. Usually Dean was the one that understood the severity and importance of every situation. Perhaps the solo hunt inflated his ego a little too much, making him think he didn't need to respect or listen to John anymore. But just because the kid had done one little hunt, and done it sloppily, didn't mean he could handle the cold dark world by himself.

Without thinking, the man lunged forward and grabbed Dean by the collar of his shirt. He slammed his oldest son so hard against the wall, a dusty little knick knack on a high shelf shuddered and fell to the shag carpet. That was all it took for John to see his hands held so viciously to his son. Quickly dropping his hands, John took a few steps back. "You're on weapons duty for five months," John reminded, quickly grabbing his coat and exiting the room. It was too early for any bars to be open, so the brothers had no idea where their father was planning on going.

When the brothers were left alone, Dean's dopamine levels-a science term that had been on the GED exam-dropped rapidly. No longer was he standing in the lofty, dark house of Alice's aunt's. No longer was there a small baby scooting around on the floor, as Alice tried to teach that Dean was 'dada'. Here in this musty knock off of the early seventies was where Dean came back to his real world. For him, that included ganking monsters and travelling the country with his generally pissed off father and generally moody brother. He'd never had an issue with it, for Dean had never known anything else. But, seeing a small glimpse at something that could become part of his life really made him wonder. At seventeen, there was still a small part of Dean that thought maybe he could hunt and have a family that was completely separate from this world. He knew this was the only thing he could see himself doing for the rest of his life, even over having one woman for the rest of his life, and a child with that woman. Dean quickly quieted this thought, one that was already growing, even after being away from Alice and Cara for only a few hours.

"How was the hunt?" Sam sourly inquired. He crossed his arms in jealousy and sat down on one of the beds. He scowled at Dean, who seemed unusually happy, the common denominator being that Dean had been away from their father and him.

Dean shrugged. "It was fine. The son of a bitch was a little more slippery than I thought. I burned the bones but the thing was attached to a comb of all things." He paused, noting how robotic and stiff he sounded. "I got the girl though. Woo. Lemme tell you about this chick, Sammy."

Any suspicions Sammy had evaporated. He held up a hand. "Dude I don't wanna hear about it."

Dean whistled. "She was something."

Having no idea Sam knew exactly the girl Dean was referring to, he spared himself from any unsolicited, uncensored information by escaping into the bathroom, saying he was going to take a shower.

Once alone, Dean's euphoria slowly deflated. It was the feeling a normal person would feel stepping back into their dark house after an exotic location, or a college student returning to their messy dorm after a week at home. To Dean, the equivalent was leaving Alice's life and restepping into that of a hunter's.

He couldn't just sit here like this.

Dean needed to go hunt something.

There was a tremendous crash outside the motel room door that would've strengthened Dean's belief in God have there been one in the first place. Quickly releasing the safety on his gun, Dean arced around the room and went to peer into the keyhole when the door was blown back, knocking Dean flat on his ass while the door splintered around him. A figure fell to the ground beside him.

Moving quickly, Dean jumped up from the ground, gun pointed at the monster.

But Dean faltered as the monster slowly stood.

The monster was a young girl, probably not any older than fourteen. She had short frizzy hair that was cut at the chin. Prominent freckles spattered across her face and neck. She was gawky and had large feet.

She looked around, frowning, like she didn't know what she was doing there.

All it took was for her to take a stumble towards Dean for him to raise his gun. "Stop! Don't move!" He yelled. "Who are you?" She continued to frown as though she didn't understand.

Sam was suddenly there, in the doorway of the bathroom, hair wet and wearing fresh jeans and no shirt. "Dean, don't!" He shouted, seeing the gun trained on the young girl.

"It busted down the door, Sam! It's a monster!"

"No, she's not," Sam insisted, coming a little closer, holding up his hands placatingly.

"Yes she is!" Sam strode towards the thing and grabbed Dean's gun arm. "That's Penny. She...went to the school I was at while Dad was hunting. We had some classes together."

"Well whatever it is, Sammy, it's not your friend." Dean turned for a fraction of a second, and the thing that was supposedly Penny took the opportunity to launch herself at Dean, proving his suspicions.

She knocked him down and bared her teeth at him. The most telling sign was the quick flash of her eyes that became as dark as the night sky for a very brief second. Dean would've missed it if he didn't know to look for it.

"Demon!" Dean shouted, trying to wrestle the beast off of him. He knew plenty of demons and had watched his father exorcise them, but never really knew the full magnitude of their strength until now.

Sam grabbed a container of holy water and splashed it on the demon. The skin on her back began to burn through her clothes and sizzle. Penny screamed in pain and gave Dean a chance to flip her off and throw her to the far side of the room.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as the demon was back up, crouched, and ready to charge at the older Winchester.

"Uh...yeah... _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus...spiritus?_ Uh _... omnis satanica potestas, omnis-_ " Sammy nervously stopped when he couldn't remember what came next, and stood frozen for a minute, unsure of what to do.

The demon side tackled Dean onto one of the beds. "Sammy!" Dean yelled.

Reanimating, Sam tried to vain to find their father's journal, which was undoubtedly in the Impala, which John undoubtedly had. "Dean, I-I don't know the rest of it and Dad has the journal."

"That doesn't really help me!" Dean snapped, trying to fight the monster off. She growled and bit at him like a rabid dog.

Running out of options, Sam grabbed a canister of salt and flung it on the demon. He tried very hard not to look at Penny's face. For the image of her sweet face slowly coming closer to his kept flashing through his mind. Locking that down, he went into hunter mode and did what he had been trained to do. He pushed the demon writhing in salt off his brother who took the opportunity to recover and land on his feet.

Just as the thing was back on her feet again, the door burst open, and John Winchester emerged, chanting the Latin words Sam and Dean did not know by heart yet. As flawed as the man was, he always managed to come in at the eleventh hour to save the day.

When the smoke finally erupted from the young girl's mouth, Sam darted forward and grabbed her body before she could hit the floor. He sank down and cradled her head in his lap, checking her neck for a pulse, holding a hand to her mouth to check for a breath. He concentrated for a moment, then his tense muscles relaxed when she turned her head, showing signs of life.

Dean watched Sammy thoughtfully for a moment, noticing how tenderly the younger brother handled the girl.

"She's alive," Sam said. "We need to get her to the hospital."

"No," John said. He strode over to Sam and yanked him up by the arm, an unconscious Penny flopping to the floor. "You need to get out of here." He shoved Sam towards the door, but Sam held his ground and shook his head. " _Yes,_ Samuel. Get out."

John paused when he saw the hard approach wasn't looking. "I promise I will get her to the hospital, Sam, but you need to go, okay?"

Choosing to believe his father's words, Sam grabbed his things and went out the door.

Dean followed suit but paused when John grabbed his arm. "Watch out for him," John said.

Dean nodded. "I always do, Dad."

"I mean it Dean, especially this time," John pleaded.

Recognizing the serious tone, Dean frowned. "Dad, what's going on? It was a demon and Sam said he knew the girl it was possessing."

"It's more than one demon, Dean."

"Does it have to do with _the_ demon?"

John shook his head. "No...it was a nest of demons I've run into before. Son, they're bad news and now those bastards are back. Here." John placed the keys to the Impala in Dean's palm. "You take the car and you drive away from here. Don't tell me where you're going-I'll find you."

"But Dad-"

"Dean, these bastards go after everyone important to you. That's what they do. Go now."

John's heartfelt words scared Dean out of the door. He found Sam pacing along the small walk in front of the motel.

Hastily explaining what John said, Dean and Sam piled into the Impala, Dean behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat. The car peeled out of the parking lot.

* * *

At a gas station nearly a hundred miles away, Dean kept a close eye on Sam who was buying from snacks in the convenience store. While he did that and pumped gas, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had memorized in a matter of minutes.

But this time, he was hoping Allie wasn't the one that answered.

And as it would have it, luck was on his side.

"I swear if this is another sales call about-"

"Mrs. Sutton?"

"Seven years a widow but-"

"It's Dean Winchester."

"Oh. Thought I told you to call me Jan. I don't want none of that old lady 'Mrs.' crap, especially with a dead husband."

"Yes m'am."

"If you're wanting to talk to Alice she's not here right now. Took Cara to the park. I'll take a message, tell her to call you back later."

"No, I wasn't looking for Alice, I was looking for you."

"Well, Dean Winchester, am I correct to assume this conversation between us never happened, especially in concern to Alice?"

"Yes m'am."

"Well, this isn't a social call and unless you want me to try and spell it out, you better spit it out."

"Have there been any demon omens in Chicago?"

There was silence on the other end. "I haven't really been watching for demon omens. Should I be?"

Dean pulled the gas pump from the Impala. "You might want to start. Look, apparently my dad got involved with a nest of demons and one of them possessed my little brother's friend from school. She tried to attack us in the motel room. My dad said they go after people you care about. I know demons can read minds and I don't know if they read mine or not but-"

"If you're concerned about Alice and your daughter's safety, don't be. That's more of an insult to me than anything. I can assure you those two are perfectly safe, but you have my word I'll be on the lookout for any demonic omens. I got devil's traps carved, painted, and burned into nearly every surface in my home."

"Devil's trap?" Dean asked.

"You call yourself a hunter? What kind of-"

"Thanks I gotta go," Dean quickly snapped his phone shut when Sam approached with a plastic bag that had 'THANK YOU' written across it in rows that formed one giant block.

"Was that Dad?" Sam asked.

"Sure, yeah." Not looking at him, Dean motioned for Sam to get in the car.

In the car, Sam sat with his arms crossed and Dean eased back onto the road, gunning on the pedal.

"You're hiding something from me."

"What?" Dean looked at Sam for a split second before cutting off a mint green VW Bug.

"Ever since we left, you've been acting weird. And that phone call. That wasn't Dad."

"Of course I'm acting weird! You saw how Dad was acting!" Dean had a hard time modulating the increasing pitch of his voice. "Sorry if it freaked me out!"

But that wasn't good enough for Sam. "There's still something you're not telling me."

Dean scoffed. "Kid, I don't know what you're talking about. But I'm telling you, you're curious for your own good. Stop asking questions or you're gonna get burned."

"Not a kid," Sam muttered. He turned towards the window to pout, stewing. "Jerk."

"Oh don't be a bitch, Sam," Dean commanded. "I'm tired, okay? I just drove a couple hours to have Dad hand me my ass and then fight a demon and now I'm behind the wheel of a car again. Would you cut me some slack, please?"

"Whatever," Sam mumbled in response.

Giving a hard blink, Dean pushed down the fear and the tiredness and focused on the asphalt that went as far as the horizon.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	10. Hold Me Tight, It'll Be All Right

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Hold Me Tight, It'll Be All Right**

* * *

 **A Couple Weeks Later**

 **Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

 **Singer Auto Salvage Yard**

* * *

A wrench clinked against the frame of the car as Bobby worked hard to screw down the tricky little bolt. He had been rebuilding the engine of a 1965 Camaro after a woman had dropped off the smashed car. The windshield was shattered from where the driver-the woman's husband-was catapulted out of the car upon collision. He was dead before the paramedics even made it to the scene. Of course, the woman didn't want anything to do with the car; she would've been fine dumping the thing in a junkyard. But compared to a junkyard, Bobby's salvage yard was like a shelter for cars. Admittedly most of the cars sat untouched and rusting for all time, but once in awhile, an out-of-towner would swing by and show interest in the cars. Everyone within the borders of Sioux Falls knew not to trespass on the drunk's property, for fear of getting pumped full of shotgun lead.

Of course Bobby wouldn't-probably wouldn't-shoot anyone. Not unless they deserved it. And trespassing onto his property only required a warning shot into the air. That was usually enough to get them off. It not, someone was gonna be waddling off his property with a lead ass.

And he could count on one hand the number of times that had ever even happened.

Not completely paying attention, some unidentified piece, part of the engine, fell and clattered into the depths of the car. " _Balls!"_ Bobby hissed, shoving a hand down the hood of the car, trying to find the little son-of-a-bitch. This was just what he needed: for the past few weeks, small things had been setting him off.

And he knew why.

It was because he had two teenage boys sitting up in his house, worried about their damn father who had stayed behind in the entrance of a motel room to ward off a nest of demons he kicked. It had been over a month, and neither boy, nor Bobby had heard a single word from John Winchester.

To Bobby, that was typical, but it was something the boys weren't used to.

Now Bobby wasn't angry the boys were there, in fact, he loved those boys like sons and they were always welcome there. But their irresponsible father made Bobby want to choke the man out until his eyeballs rolled inside his head and could hopefully give John a chance to find his brain, which always seemed to be missing when it came to his children.

His anger shifted from the missing part to John Winchester. Muttering to himself, Bobby didn't hear the gravel shifting underfoot that slowly moved closer to him.

"Bobby?"

Bobby snapped his head up, banging it on the hood that was propped up. "Idjit!" He cursed and readjusted his hat, but not before hitting the hood that it slammed back down over the engine.

"Bobby?"

"What boy?!" As soon as the words came out, Bobby realized they were much harsher than he meant them to be. "This damn car is testing my patience."

But Dean, the one who had called for the older man, didn't seem to register the anger in Bobby's tone.

With a frown, Bobby surveyed Dean.

The teen had an expression on his face like he had just seen a man get ripped limb from limb-that actually wasn't a good analogy, now that Bobby thought about it. But Dean's face was almost vacant, as if he were in shock. His cell phone was clenched tightly in one fist, which was shaking ever so slightly. Bobby had never seen Dean in such an unresponsive state.

"Boy?" Bobby asked softly.

Dean swallowed and stared at his phone before putting it in his pocket. "There's...something I want to tell you, but I'm not really sure how to say it."

"What is it?" Worry was beginning to build up. Dean had never been one to just admit things off the fly. Something really, truly heavy was eating at the kid. And if Dean was willing to share it, as opposed to keeping it bottled up, that mean whatever it was was something serious, something toxic. The whole thing effectively freaked Bobby out.

"Please promise me you won't tell my dad. He doesn't know. And neither does Sam. I want to keep it that way." Dean began to rub his hands together almost compulsively. After a few seconds of it, he realized what he was doing and forced himself to stop. He'd never done that before, never had a nervous tick before.

That concerned Bobby, made him stand up a little straighter. He slowly walked towards Dean in apprehension. "What is it?"

Dean looked down at gave a colorless chuckle. "I don't even know…" He looked so helpless right then, and felt nearly the same way.

"You know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is. And don't worry: I won't tell your daddy," Bobby assured, but wondered which line Dean had to cross for Bobby to tell John. Surely something involving the demons the senior Winchester had pissed off. But, it couldn't be that, because if that were the case, Dean would've been calling up his father, even though John hadn't answered a single call in over a month.

Dean let out a breath he'd been holding in, while Bobby took a sharp inhale. "Thanks Bobby. Just give me a second."

* * *

 **A Little While Earlier**

* * *

Alice bounced Cara from side-to-side while she held a phone between her ear and shoulder. Jan was out doing whatever it was the older woman did on a regular day. Dean had returned to his father and brother a few weeks ago. He called her whenever he got the chance. And she always answered.

And lately, the last few calls had been tense. Dean vaguely mentioned he was worried about his father and he and his brother were staying at a family friend's house for awhile. He didn't really expand any further than that. But with each call, he always made sure she was okay, how Cara was doing, and always managed to ask about her aunt, which she found slightly odd, since she didn't think Jan and Dean thought much of each other other that what they had to, the one time they met. Now that she thought about, Jan asked about Dean quite a bit, as well. But for her aunt, she just supposed Jan wanted to make sure the boy who knocked up her niece wasn't a piece of trash.

But that aside, there was something radically different about this phone call. There was something different about this time. "I don't know how it could've happened. I mean, I do: we're the world's biggest idiots," she moaned into the phone.

There was a slight edge in Dean's voice, like he hadn't slept much lately. "Are you sure? You're absolutely positive?"

She sighed. "I went to the doctor yesterday. This is one hundred percent, Dean."

There was some shuffling on the other end of the phone. "I don't know Sam-yeah we can go play fetch later. I'm talking to some girl. Just give me ten minutes and we'll go."

She grinded her teeth, feeling a flare of anger in her stomach. " _Some_ girl huh? Well for some girl, it sure is funny you knocked me up! _Twice!_ " She knew this was half his fault and half hers. The first time was the first time, but _two_ times! She still couldn't fathom such odds. Alice had always considered herself a smart girl, but decided when she was around Dean Winchester, all her common sense flew out the window. It was like she was in some hypnotic trance and all the world fell away except for Dean. She chalked it up to biology, but still.

She was sure her parents would be thrilled to hear about their bastard grandchild number two. The only times they talked to her now were to wish her a very stiff Merry Christmas and a very unfelt Happy Birthday to her. But not to Cara. Now not to the new baby.

When she told Aunt Jan her suspicions a few days ago, Jan made her a doctor's appointment and just sighed. As she was leaving that day, she commented, "Well, hope you like that Dean guy enough because even if you're not together, you two are officially linked together for life." But she was right. Two children proved that Dean was more than just a fading mistake in Alice's life. In the crudest way, it proved Dean came back for more and Alice gave it to him.

Dean didn't respond. Alice gave him a few moments. They never discussed what role he would play in their children's lives.

"Hey."

"Huh?" Cara fussed a bit and Alice went and set her down in her crib when the baby wouldn't stop wriggling.

"I uh...I have to go I think."

"Yeah,." She figured as much. Alice just wished he would say he'd want to be a good father. It was hard enough raising one child alone. And in less than a year, she would be outnumbered. "You can go if you have to go." She just wished he would stay on the line a little longer.

"Okay, thanks." As she was about to hang up, he called her name. "You know I want to be a good father to them, Allie. Right now, I just can't leave Sam. He needs me right now. And I know that's an awful thing to say when there are going to be two babies in the world without a father. They need their mother more. Cara and this new baby are always gonna need you more, Allie. You make up for me not being there in every way."

She hung up pretty quickly after that and slammed the phone down. Quickly picking up Cara, Alice bounded down the stairs-without jarring the baby. She grabbed the keys to her car and stormed out the backdoor to the alley, where the car was parked.

Once reaching the car, Alice carefully put Cara in her seat and buckled the straps. Before closing the door and getting in the driver's seat, Alice stared at Cara, and wondered how she resembled each of her parents. With a sigh, Alice kissed Cara on the forehead and took her place behind the wheel of the car.

Alice drove carefully and perhaps macabrely stopped when she pulled into the spot where she and Dean had unknowingly and stupidly conceived their second child.

She breathed in and out, and glanced back at the empty seat next to Cara. She imagined another baby. "Do you want a brother or sister, Cara? You won't be alone anymore, baby." Alice laughed weakly at the furrowed expression on Cara's face. The baby normally didn't scream, but she always had such a distrustful expression, even around her own mother. Alice figured that was a good quality to have: be skeptical of everything and everyone.

Wiping at her eyes, Alice turned back to her child. "It's gonna be hard baby, you know? I won't be able to focus all of my attention on you anymore. You're going to have to share me with the new baby. But I promise, I will always be there for you. I won't ever leave you. I love you, Cara."

She stopped for a moment and made the same promise to the baby slowly growing inside of her, which was still hard to imagine. When Alice was this pregnant with Cara, she wasn't even completely sure. She has suspicions, but honestly thought she was sick.

It hadn't seemed real until she had pulled into the spot where it started all over again for a second time.

But it was.

* * *

Dean wanted to kill something.

He had not signed up for this.

It had taken enough adjustment to finding out he had one child, a daughter.

And now, he was gonna have another one.

" _Fuck,"_ Dean whispered, clenching the phone tightly. He dropped down to the couch and cradled his head in his hands, knocking the phone against his temple, as if hoping the last conversation with Alice would fall out of his head.

He'd gotten more than he wanted. All he wanted to do was find Alice. And now he had gotten two kids out of the deal.

That really just was the icing on the fucking cake. Alice was no doubt pissed at him for knocking her up again-and he couldn't really say he blamed her. Dean hadn't heard even a whisper from his father since he had left John standing alone in the motel room. He was worried about his father. And Sam was blaming Dean, as if the whole thing was somehow his fault. Bobby was the only one who wasn't getting on Dean's very last nerve. Since he and Sam were basically squatting in his house, he had no right to get angry with Bobby. Besides, Bobby could probably backhand Dean or even back over him the the car he was restoring and Dean still wouldn't be angry with the man.

He stared at the loose floorboards for a couple minutes and just tried to breathe, trying some of the yoga crap he heard Jan telling Alice about when he was over there.

Eventually, Dean decided he wasn't accomplishing anything useful just sitting there and stewing. He done enough stewing. He'd been doing it for over a month.

Swinging himself up from the couch, Dean passed Sam in the kitchen and slammed open the old screen door. Dean ignored Sam's inquiry if it was time to play catch yet.

 _Not now, Sammy, really not the time._

Moving quickly across the dusty yard full of junked up cars, Dean caught the familiar catchphrase of anger as he saw Bobby irately digging around in the hood of the smashed car. That car must've been something before the accident, Dean thought. But now, the frame was smashed, interior soaked with blood.

After a few moments, Dean finally got the man's attention and said, "There's...something I want to tell you, but I'm not really sure how to say it."

Dean had to keep reminding himself it wasn't John Winchester standing in front of him, but Bobby. Still, Dean couldn't help but wonder how John would react to hearing the news. But, Dean couldn't even think of how his father would respond. Maybe there was a reason for that.

Bobby patiently waited for Dean to get the words out.

"I just got off the phone…"

"With your daddy?"

Dean vigorously shook his head, and almost regretted it. He could've stopped himself there and said just that. But, he couldn't lie to Bobby, the man who was basically an uncle to him. "No. It was some girl who I went to high school with for awhile. It was in the middle of Nebraska and it was while my dad was working a case."

"She have anything interesting to say?"

Dean clasped his hands together and rocked back on his feet. "As a matter of fact, she did."

Patience wearing thin, Bobby motioned for Dean to keep talking. He didn't want to have to cue the boy every time Dean took a pause.

"Right. Well, it's been a year and a half since I was at that high school but I recently went to see her. She's living in Chicago with her aunt now. I did this about a month ago, right before we came here. Dad thought it was my first solo hunt."

"But you went to go see a girl instead." Bobby had to say he'd rather Dean go visit some high school crush than him go hunting by himself. The idea wasn't exactly thrilling, to say the least.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"She must've been something."

"She's something alright."

"Well, I assume whatever she told you on the phone must have been a bombshell." Bobby was purposefully not letting his mind wander.

Dean laughed again. "I'll say." He looked Bobby in the eyes for the first time. "Look, I'm about to tell you and I don't know how you're gonna react. But however you do, please don't tell my dad," Dean pleaded.

Bobby nodded. "I swear."

Dean nodded several times, mentally building up enough courage to tell Bobby. He kept trying to convince himself he had no fear when on hunts, and admitting one little- _major-_ slip up was nothing. Eventually Dean told himself to stop acting like a little bitch and just let it out.

"The girl, Alice, told me. That. She's. Pregnant?" The last word was phrased as if he were asking Bobby to clarify that Alice actually was pregnant, as if Bobby would somehow have any idea. The man certainly knew enough.

"Come again?" Bobby asked, his face contorting into something sarcastic, as if he thought Dean was playing a joke on him. A really bad joke.

Dean sighed as his shoulders slumped forward. "Alice told me she's gonna have a baby. My baby."

"So you're telling me, you knocked up some girl?"

Dean nodded. "Yes sir."

"Probably would've been better to never have gone to visit that girl, huh?"

"Twenty-twenty," Dean admitted.

"Well lemme ask the double jeopardy question. Did you use protection?" Maybe Bobby could just chalk it up to a faulty misstep.

But when Dean looked down at the ground and didn't respond, Bobby got the answer he was dreading.

" _Are you brain dead?_ What did your daddy never give you the talk about how babies are made? _Huh?_ Ya stupid _idjit!_ I oughta throttle you, maybe knock some sense into you." Bobby smacked the back of Dean's head, and then thumped him on the chest in anger. These boys really were going to be the death of him. It was like they tried to send him into cardiac arrest. "Your daddy was gonna let you go on a solo hunt and you don't even know how to use a goddamn _condom?_ Oh you're lucky your daddy doesn't know. Boy, you would be dead in the ground."

"I _know,_ okay? That's why I don't want him to know!" Dean smacked Bobby's hand away when he went to take another swing at the back of Dean's head. "Look, I don't need you to wail on me: I've been beating myself up about this already. Okay?"

Bobby turned around and shut his eyes, hearing the self-incriminating tone in the boy's voice, but finding it difficult to find sympathy for him. "So, what are you gonna do, Dean?" Bobby asked, still turned around.

"No idea. But Bobby, that's not all." Dean's voice was so small now.

 _Oh dear God._

"See, it's kinda my fault she moved to Chicago in the first place."

"And why's that?" Bobby knew things were about to get ten times worse.

"She had to leave Broken Bow because of a similar incident. I uh...kind of knocked her up and she moved in with her aunt. But I didn't know about this because she found out after I left. I didn't know about it until I tracked her down."

Feeling himself leaning against the car, Bobby fought to gain control of his voice. "So the short version is that you knocked this girl up twice, if I'm hearing correctly."

"In a nutshell."

He didn't know why he was asking, but Bobby did anyways. "Did you use protection the first time?"

"No sir."

Bobby was suddenly animated. He spun around, reached over, and smacked the back of Dean's head again. "Boy have you lost your damn mind?! You're not even eighteen years old and already ruined some poor girl's life _twice?"_

"Guess so."

"You need to take some responsibility for your actions."

Dean's anger flared a bit. "What am I supposed to do, huh? What _can_ I even do? I have no skills that would be useful to her! Alice didn't even graduate high school because of me, and she was gonna be a doctor or lawyer or something brilliant like that. Her parents want nothing to do with her! I'm just thankful her aunt is decent enough to support her and Cara!"

"Cara?"

"What?" Dean stopped his rant.

"Cara?" Bobby asked again.

Dean felt himself smiling a little bit. "Yeah. That's her name."

"Her?"

He nodded again. "Cara's my daughter."

For the first time, Bobby caught a glimpse of Dean in a new light. The entire time he spoke, Bobby assumed Dean wanted nothing to do with these children, was just an extravagant idgit. But hearing Dean so readily admit the child was his daughter was mind altering to Bobby, it even lessened some of the anger he felt. Still, it didn't mean Dean was any less of an idiot.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Bobby?"

"You love this girl? Alice?"

Dean frowned. "I don't know. I don't really know what that's even supposed to feel like. I know it certainly doesn't look like that."

Well, maybe Dean didn't know, but Dean's not running for the hills was a big clue to Bobby.

"And what about Cara, this little girl? Do you love her?"

In response, Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He dug into a spot and pulled out a piece of paper folded in half a couple times. It was so small that surely anyone going through his wallet would've thought it was maybe a discarded receipt.

Dean slowly began to unfold the paper, which Bobby realized was a wallet sized photograph.

Smoothing it out, Dean stared at it for a moment before handing it over to Bobby.

Squinting at the wrinkled picture, Bobby studied it. It was poorly taken, of a baby with dark brown hair sticking up in different directions. The baby had both hands leaning up against a wall, bracing so it could stand. The thing had wide brown eyes and a curious expression as it stared at the camera. The baby wore a light pink onesie. Bobby looked up at Dean.

"That's Cara," Dean said. "It was taken a couple of weeks before I knew she even existed. She'd be about eight months old now."

Bobby slowly handed the photo back to Dean who carefully put it back in his wallet.

"Do you want to be a part of these kid's lives?"

Dean nodded slowly. "I think so."

"How are you gonna do that?"

"Just see them when i can, I guess. I can't be there for them one hundred percent. Not when Sammy needs me and not when I have that lifestyle. But I guess hunting is isn't something that's gonna be completely separate from them."

"You idjit, did you tell this girl about-"

"No! She doesn't know. Her aunt, however, is a hunter. Or was, I guess. But no. Alice doesn't know."

"What's the aunt's name?"

"Janet Sutton. I think Breckinridge before she was married."

Bobby thought for a moment. "Doesn't ring a bell." As Winchester luck would have it, of course Dean would knock up some girl with ties to the supernatural world.

"Ah well…"

"Dean, do you really think visiting these kids whenever you can is the best way to be in their lives?"

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

Bobby pulled down the brim of his hat. "If you can't be there for them one hundred percent or even ninety percent, can you really consider yourself their father then?" Bobby couldn't help but icily point some of the question towards Dean's own absent father. It wasn't the boy's fault-well besides the two pregnancies-that Dean's only parental role model was a dead beat that made his children hunt things that went bump in the night.

"Bobby, I still can't wrap my head around that fact. And you know, I wouldn't mind being there for them more often, but I don't know how. And I can't. I can't leave my dad and Sammy. They need me."

"And what, Alice doesn't need you?"

Dean scoffed and kicked a rock so hard, the trajectory of the force arced it into the car Bobby was restoring. Neither seemed to notice. "What can I do for her, really?" Dean glanced up at Bobby, almost as if he were expecting an answer.

With a sigh, Bobby kicked a wrench with his foot, not sure what else to say to Dean.

"I know this is absolutely crazy. I'm still a kid, Bobby." Dean placed a hand on his forehead and seemingly rocked himself back and forth.

"Well, you can't be a kid and a father. You need to figure out your priorities and pick which one is important to you. Boy, I'm not going to tell you what to do because even _I_ don't know the answer to that. Reckon that's something you're gonna have to take awhile to think about."

"I need a drink," Dean muttered.

"If you promise not to drink all my beer you can have some. Just don't let Sam see."

He scoffed. "I'm gonna need something a little stronger than beer."

Bobby shook his head. "Well of course you do," he muttered sarcastically. He found out Dean was going to be a father of two, and now the teenager wanted to put a dent in his alcohol reserves. With a grumble, Bobby conceded. "Just don't touch the stuff in the mason jars."

"Why? You think I can't handle it?"

"No," Bobby retorted, flaring with an attitude. "That's my special, custom made moonshine. I just don't wanna share with you."

Another figure approached the two. "Dean." The younger man spun around to find Sam with a football in one hand. "You said you would throw around a football with me after you finished talking to that girl. Then you ran out here. I waited for a half an hour."

Had it really been that long since Dean talked to Alice? He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Sam." The tone clearly stated Dean had more important things to worry about than throw around a damn football. Sam immediately noticed and thought about how Dean always seemed to be brushing him to the side, never seeming interested in his younger brother any longer.

Instead of saying anything, Sam just looked down at the ground, and spiked the football at the ground.

Bobby came and clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. He snatched the fallen football. "I'll play catch with you," Bobby assured.

Brightening, Sam looked up at the older man. "Really? Because I know you were working on restoring that car-"

With a laugh, Bobby kicked the rim of the car. "You see that thing? It's not going anywhere." And neither was he.

Bobby shot Dean a pointed look before Sam and the old man walked off the salvage yard to the field behind it.

Bobby had said didn't couldn't still be a kid and have kids. He couldn't be there for his father and Sammy and also for Alice, Cara, and the new baby. Only to himself could Dean admit if he tried to spread himself too thin like that, he would end up doing a half assed job, which wasn't good for anyone.

The main problem on his mind had been his father, who was so desperate and crazed the last time Dean saw him. Not even one single word, appearance, or smoke signal for over a month. It wasn't even a possibility that John could be dead because he would've pulled the whole sky down with him before he let that happen. John had to be still smoking out the nest, or at least trying to keep the demons on his tail away from Dean and Sam. But Dean wished John would let him help. He could help.

His worry over Alice and Cara had subsided when Jan assured him nothing supernatural would get within smelling distance of Alice and Cara. And although nothing had changed, except for the jarring news, Dean felt himself increasingly worry over Alice and the safety of the unborn baby over the past while. Couple that with a baby that could barely walk, and there was no way Jan could protect them if she were outnumbered by demons, especially when Alice had no idea the kind of things that lurked in the shadows of the world she thought she knew. He should be there with Alice.

But was it better to stay away? He had no idea whether or not the demons knew if Alice and the babies even existed or not. All he could do was hope they didn't, and wait for John Winchester.

 _That_ was something Dean hated. Sitting around and waiting was completely useless. And Dean hated feeling completely useless. Funnily enough, that was pretty much all he'd been feeling in the past month. Pair that with the shocking phone call from Alice, and Dean was ready to go on a witch hunt for his father, get Alice and the babies somewhere safe, or track down the demons and kill them all. He wasn't sure which one yet.

So of course, what does Dean do?

He stands there like an idiot, flagellating himself for not knowing what to do.

Then remembering something, Dean turned on his heel and slammed the back door to Bobby's house. In the study, in a dusty armoire shoved up against the wallpapered wall, Dean found a bottle of whiskey, a quarter of the way empty. Never knowing Bobby was one to leave anything less than a bottle of alcohol, Dean took a few sips and coughed on the burning liquid, pausing to wonder why he was drinking it. But then, the answer came a few minutes later in a wave of calm and detachment.

 _That_ was why, Dean remembered.

Dean drank and drank into a state that would be irreversible for the rest of his life. Slowly building up tolerance bit by bit, drinking alcohol would soon become as essential as water to him.

But for now, it only took a small amount for his worries to slither away.

At least for awhile.

In this state, a while stretched into as long as Dean kept drinking.

* * *

"That's good, Sammy, really get the tight spiral," Bobby coached, as Sam threw the ball with impressive precision and speed.

Catching the ball against this chest, Bobby threw the ball back with a force that knocked Sam back a couple feet. Still, he managed to keep a hold of the ball. He stared in awe at his uncle. "Where'd you learn to throw like that?"

Bobby chuckled. "Would you believe I was on varsity in high school?"

"With a throw like that, sure."

Bobby smiled at Sam's carefree smile. He was still young, it was still easy for him to forget his worries for awhile. If at least for awhile Bobby could keep one of the boys happy, he would do it.

They threw the ball back and forth of a couple times. When one time, the ball shot past Sam, he went to retrieve it. But when Bobby saw the pensive look on Sam's face as he walked back, football held loosely in one hand, Bobby knew playing catch was over.

"You haven't heard from my dad, have you?" Sam asked.

Bobby shook his head. "You know I would've told you if I did."

Sam looked somewhat unconvinced, the football spinning underneath his hands.

"What? You don't believe me?" Bobby asked. He took the football away from Sam and tossed it aside, undividing Sam's attention.

"I believe you. But I don't believe Dean."

"And why's that?"

Sam scoffed and crossed his arms. "Dean told me he was talking to some random girl on the phone. He thinks I'm just a dumb little kid."

"Boy what are you saying?"

"He was talking to Dad. Dean's been keeping secrets ever since we got here. He just doesn't think I can handle the truth. He doesn't care about any girl that much." The irony of the words was not lost on the older man.

Bobby was thoughtful for a moment. Sam was a smart little idjit, but also a bit paranoid. Right then, Bobby could've told Sam the truth, that no: Dean hadn't heard from their father, and yes: there actually was a girl Dean cared about that much.

"He's not talking to your daddy."

"Don't lie to me," Sam insisted, voice wavering a little bit.

"Thought you believed me." Bobby crossed his arms, studying Sam.

"I do," Sam said quickly. "It's just...I saw you and Dean talking before I came out there. And as soon as I came out, you both stopped talking like I wasn't supposed to hear what you were talking about." He eyes flicked up to Bobby. "So what were you guys talking about?"

Bobby just shrugged. "Not what you think. But it's not my place to tell you. You want to know, you go ask your brother. But I can tell you it has nothing to do with your daddy."

With a head shake, Sam was entirely sure Dean wouldn't appreciate his younger brother coming up and asking him about his conversation with Bobby. Realizing this, Sam let out a sigh. "Nevermind."

"Good answer." Bobby jogged over and picked up the football. "You better run boy, this ball is gonna go far."

And just like that, Sam was dropped back into the world of childhood innocence.

* * *

With a roll of her stomach, Alice pushed the roast beef plate away. She plugged her nose and turned her head to the side, feeling an unsettling feeling in her throat.

"What?" Jan asked, mouth full of the beef.

Alice took one look at her and darted from the table. There was the sound of retching and a toilet flushing. A few moments later, Alice came back with a clean mouth and brushed teeth, and retook her place at the table, still staring at the plate of roast beef warily.

"Are you kidding me?!" Jan demanded. " _You're_ sick of it? You were practically bathing in this stuff at the end of your last pregnancy. And lemme tell you _I_ was the one who was sick of it. I was the one who was making it three days a week! And now you can't even look at it without throwing up?"

Alice rolled her eyes at Jan's antics. "Apparently. Look, I'll clean it up. I'm sorry I made you make it. It sounded really good. And thank you."

Jan smiled fondly at her niece. "It's no problem, darling."

"Thanks Aunt Jan," Alice smiled.

Feigning surprise, Jan pointed at Alice. "Oh you thought I was talking about you? No I was talking to this little cutie right here." Jan leaned over and chucked Cara under the chin. In response, Cara's tiny fist brushed the underside of her chin, perplexed at what had just happened. From her high chair, Cara glared at Jan's hand in indignant shock.

Sitting back, Jan grinned when she saw Alice giving her a withering look. "Tough crowd."

After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Jan cleared her throat. "So, Alice, I talked to my sister today."

Alice bit her upper lip and nodded. She still wasn't sure how she felt about Jan referring to Sherry as her sister, as opposed to Alice's mother. Sherry had no sympathy for her daughter, so surely Alice shouldn't have any for her mother, either. However, Alice still felt like she owed her mother something. After growing up an environment for seventeen years with expectations taller than the house she lived in, Alice couldn't help but feel both thankfulness and resentment for her parents. Thankful because her parents obviously saw some potential in Alice that she never saw in herself, but resentful for how controlling and guilt-tripping they were.

One hand guiding a spoon towards Cara's mouth, Alice placed her head on the other one, focusing on her daughter. "Yeah?"

"I told her about the new baby."

"That was quick," Alice noted.

"I figured it was better to do it before the next kid popped out."

Alice sent her well meaning aunt another withering glance. "What did _Sherry_ have to say?"

Letting out a short guffaw, Jan scooped some more roast beef onto her plate. "What you'd expect from a straight-laced goody goody. Oh, she also told me to tell you she's praying for your soul."

Alice scoffed, knowing Jan had meant it as a joke, but there was still a part of Alice's heart that was gripped in fear. Would she go to Hell for having two kids out of wedlock? And what about her kids? Alice always tried to convince herself this train of thought was irrational, but growing up in a very religious household for her entire life still had a grip on Alice's beliefs. And ultimately, on her own accord, she did believe. But she just hoped God was merciful.

"What about Daddy? You heard from him recently?"

Cringing at the name, Alice shrugged. "I haven't talked to him since I told him. I figured he needed a couple days to sort things out."

"He say anything else?"

Alice frowned and stared at her aunt. "Should he have?"

Very quickly, Jan scooped up her and Alice's plates from the table. "I don't know why you're asking me. You're the one sleeping with him."

"Aunt Jan _come on!_ Past tense! Definitely not present tense."

Jan raised an eyebrow at pointedly glared at Alice's stomach. "We'll see about that, honey."

"Real nice," Alice quipped. She wiped Cara's face off with the bib and pulled the baby from her high chair. "Come on biddy baby, let's get you away from your crazy great aunt." Alice spun around with her daughter and kissed her on the cheek, as Cara nuzzled against her chest.

"Hey! I resent that, Alice Francine! _Great_ aunt? That just makes me sound ancient now!"

Alice gave a mischievous grin. "The gray hairs tell the story, Janet."

With a smirk, Jan flung a dish towel at Alice as she retreated from the kitchen. "That's right, run away!" Chuckling, Jan turned back around to the sink and immersed the dishes under the way.

As she walked down the hallway, Alice couldn't stop herself from smiling. _This_ is what a real family felt like. There was warmth and open communication, much the opposite of her cold and closed off childhood home.

Honestly, if Alice could go without ever stepping back into the little yellow house on the street named after a tree, she would be content.

Once in Cara's bedroom, Alice showered her daughter with kisses. "Listen to me, Cara mia: if you have family who loves you, you have everything you need. But family and love don't necessarily go hand in hand. But, you can bet as your mama I love you to the moon and back and back again."

Cara's wide eyes were captivated by her mother, she even had the faintest trace of a smile. "Mamamamama moomoomoomoo," she babbled.

Alice felt an unparalleled spark of joy. She scooped Cara up once more. "That's right, baby! I'm your mama, and I love you!"

In a rare display, Cara let out a short little giggle, but sustained the wide little smile.

Alice's hand went to her stomach, and completely, for the first time, she was excited for this new baby. The prospect of having two giggling little babies was absolutely enthralling, and Alice couldn't even begin to imagine how she once thought this little creature in front of her ever could've been a curse.

It was truly amazing how transformative motherhood was.

Splayed hand rubbing over her abdomen, Alice tried to picture what this new baby would be like, but it was like trying to picture Cara all grown up. She knew it was going to be amazing, but couldn't seem to grasp the image.

"You're gonna make a great big sister, aren't you, Cara?"

And Alice knew she would.

With a content sigh, Alice took a seat in the rocking chair by Cara's crib and glided back and forth.

Things were finally okay again.


	11. Prayer of the Cursed Saint

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Prayer of the Cursed Saint**

* * *

It was four in the morning when Bobby's eyes shot open. Hunter instinct kicked in as he felt a shot of adrenaline sent through his veins.

Something that had woken him.

He reached for the shotgun he kept near his bed and peeked out from behind the curtains. The sound of a growling engine had woken him up. From the corner of the window, he could see a two-toned pick up truck parked in front of the house. The engine died and there was the sound of a door slamming. A haggard figure slowly came around from the driver's side of the car and heavy boots stomped up Bobby's porch steps.

Bobby aimed the shotgun as he crept down the stairs. He threw open the front door, revealing a ragged John Winchester, fist up, poised to bang loudly on the door, no doubt.

John dropped the hand and nodded at the other man. "Bobby."

"Johnny," Bobby bit sarcastically.

With a tired sigh, John glared at Bobby and extended a hand towards the house. "Can I come in?"

Pulling out a flask from his back pocket, Bobby shoved it at John. "Drink that and I may just let you in."

John crossed his arms in defiance. "What the hell is that?"

"Whiskey. A few drops of holy water."

John just looked at Bobby in disbelief. "Really, Bobby? It's me."

"Sure, well then come on in. Wanna hop in bed with me too? Look, you were gone for over a month, running from _demons_ , not even a whiff of you. Your sons have been worried up to their little ears thinking something happened to you. You can understand why I'd be hesitant to let you into _my_ house. Now you can come on in after I do a simple test. So, we can do this the easy way and you take a swig from that flask, or we can do it the fun way and I'll empty twelve rounds of rock salt into your ass. Either way, same effect." To demonstrate his point, Bobby cocked the shotgun.

With a chuckle devoid of any humor, John snatched the flask away from Bobby quite petulantly and took a long drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he handed the flask back to Bobby without a demonic wince. "You son of a bitch-that's the worst whiskey I've ever had."

"Well boohoo, should I give it to you in a bottle next time?" Bobby sneered crankily. He was fed up John decided to show up in the middle of the night. The man couldn't have waited until the sun was at least up?

Irritated, John shouldered past Bobby into the foyer. He dropped the heavy duffle bag on the floor beside him and looked like he were about to yell up the stairs for the boys.

"Don't you dare!" Bobby hissed, grabbing John roughly by the shoulder. "I don't need anyone yelling in my house before the damn sun is even up. Capiche?"

Surprised by Bobby's hostile reaction, John squared his shoulders and threw the other man's hand off. He turned to face Bobby. "Something you wanna say to me?"

"Let the boys sleep." It sure looked like their father could use some too.

It was very evident John hadn't gotten much rest in the past month, as his eyes were bloodshot, hair was a faint mix of a sulfuric odor and booze coming from his cracked leather jacket. "They've had a month to sleep. Probably haven't even been training, I bet."

Bobby internally rolled his eyes. John was never satisfied, never happy. "Well then what's a few more hours gonna make a difference either way, John?"

"I just wanna get my damn kids and get on the damn road."

Bobby held up his hands. "Just wait a minute. First thing's first, what happened to the demon or demons? You smoke those bastards?"

John nodded. "They're taken care of. What? You'd think I'd come here knowing I still had demons on my ass?"

"Must've been some tricky sons of bitches. Took you over a month to lose 'em."

"Not as young as I used to be."

"Uh-huh."

Not knowing why, Bobby's mind wandered to the picture Dean kept in his wallet, the one of the little peanut, Cara. For some reason, he imagined what John would look like holding the little girl, but Bobby couldn't imagine such opposites existing side by side. He'd only ever seen a single image of the girl, but if she was anything like Dean said, she and her mother were sure gonna be around in Dean's life for a long time. He briefly wondered if Dean was ever going to tell John. Eventually, the man was bound to find out. Bobby was vaguely surprised John hadn't discovered Dean had never actually went on that solo hunt and burn. Maybe he was getting old, losing his touch. Or maybe he saw what he wanted to see.

"Look, if you're not gonna let me wake up my kids, can I at least grab a few hours on your couch?" John asked, when it seemed Bobby was dozing off.

Bobby waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine. But before you conk out, I wanna talk to you."

John scoffed in disbelief.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna braid your hair or swap gossip with you. But since you're standing in _my_ house, I'm gonna make you wait a little longer before you enjoy your stay at Hotel Singer."

Slowly losing patience, John moved into the other room and plopped down onto the couch he was going to be sleeping on, hopefully soon. He kicked his feet up and motioned for Bobby. "What do you want to talk about?" John demanded rudely, brusquely

Bobby sat on the chair opposite from John. "Dean," he said shortly, leaving no room for argument.

"Okay, what about Dean? If he-"

"He didn't do anything, alright?" _That_ was a lie, but Bobby knew Dean needed someone in his corner, someone that could hold their own. Even if the boy could hold his own, Bobby reckoned Dean wouldn't dare do anything to upset the balance of the Winchester triad.

"Then what's the problem?" John asked, not even trying to look remotely interested.

"He's almost eighteen and-"

Already not liking what he was hearing, John cut Bobby off before he could continue. "Look, Bobby, I appreciate you looking after my boys, but _I'm_ their father. You don't need to lecture me on what's best for them. You think I don't know that Dean is almost eighteen? Trust me, I do."

Bobby stared John in the eye. "Well, then it seems we're on the same page. But, I'm still gonna say it. You need to stop treating him like a kid."

That enraged John. Standing up, the coffee table John was resting his feet on scraped across the floor, emitting a loud squeal. Couple that with John's indignant inquiry-" _Excuse me?"-_ Bobby looked up at the ceiling, somehow expecting to hear feet hit the ground as either Sam or Dean awoke and went to investigate what was wrong.

"Keep your voice down, you idjit," Bobby hissed.

John growled, but restrained himself from doing anything further than that. "Did he tell you about that solo 'hunt' I let him go on? And did he tell you what _actually_ happened? Because I know I shouldn't have let him done that! He couldn't even hunt down a simple ghost in a reasonable amount of time."

What Bobby really wanted to do was yell at John for being so blind. Be he couldn't do that. "These boys have trained nearly every day of their lives, and Dean is more than capable of handling himself. He's done a tremendous job of taking care of Sammy and keeping him safe. I think Dean has earned the right to at least be treated like an equal."

John's hands clenched tightly into fists and he felt himself shaking. "That's not your place, Bobby. I do what's best for those boys. I always have."

"Have you? Have you really?" Bobby challenged.

" _I have!"_ With a surge of uncontrolled emotion, he moved like a blur and lunged towards Bobby. John slammed the other man against the bookshelf as a slur of words fell out of his mouth. "You think I don't think about what _she_ would think of all of this?! You think this is the first choice for my kids? But this is the only way I can keep them safe. I know what's out there. They know. _You_ know what's out there. I can't know what's out there and not train them. I can't leave them undefended. I already lost my wife, Bobby. I won't lose my sons. I know _you_ can understand that." With a flatness in the air, John let go of Bobby and turned around, taking a few steps in the other direction, breath ragged, trying to cover up the raw nerve that had just been scorched.

Still against the bookshelf, Bobby's mind wandered to his dead wife, Karen. He pictured his hand running a knife through her chest, as she gasped in surprise, and gave Bobby a look of almost distrust, as if he had betrayed her. The image was forever burned into his brain and was something he reckoned would never leave him.

The silence between the two men made Bobby think. He and John really weren't all that different. Both threw themselves into hunting after something supernatural had killed the loves of their lives. The only difference between the two was that John still had two sons. Bobby had no one, and reckoned if he did, he would've done well to keep them as far away from this life as he could. There would always be a small amount of anger towards John for raising the boys in this life, but the rest of his anger towards the oldest Winchester was slowly displaced, scattering across the floor like particles of dust. After a month of imagining shoving the butt of a rifle in John's face, Bobby couldn't even find the desire to want to do it.

"John," Bobby said he stepped away from the bookshelf. "Maybe it doesn't do much good arguing about that past. You raised your boys the way you did. But, I'm telling you, Dean is no longer a child. Sure, he'll always be a kid to me, a kid to you, but to the world, he can't be."

John looked over his shoulder with an unreadable expression.

"That doesn't mean you can't still protect him, worry about him, but you need to trust him. Let him go."

"Why are you telling me this?" John inquired, voice more controlled this time. "Why now?"

Bobby smirked. "Because it's true, you old bastard. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"Well, maybe you're blind," John said halfheartedly, struggling with some emotion he couldn't put a name to. Instead, he pushed it down and tried to compose himself. But that was hard when he felt so frazzled and fried, which was something that rarely ever happened to him.

"I'd bet you every car out in my lot that you're wrong."

"Sure, Bobby." John still didn't sound too convinced but Bobby knew that was all he would get out of the other man for the night.

"Don't expect breakfast in bed or anything like that when you wake up," Bobby snarkily commented as he exited the room and stomped back up the stairs.

Downstairs, John flopped down on the couch, face buried into the scratchy fabric.

He didn't even remember falling asleep he just was.

* * *

A steady stream of sunlight permeated the sheer curtains that hung in the kitchen window. The dark floor was bathed in golden light, the dark house seeming a whole lot warmer and inviting.

"Well don't you look nice." Jan leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Alice smoothed down the floral dress she wore. Cara was sitting on the counter beside Jan, her great aunt's arm looped around her waist. Cara squinted when a cloud shifted from in front of the sun and a ray of light shined her her eye. She turned her head and instinctively looked at her mother.

Alice's head dipped low in embarrassment. "I just want to get a few more uses out of it before I blow up like a balloon." She ran a hand over her stomach. In the flared dress, the slight protrusion wasn't visible. If she wore a t-shirt, Alice could notice the bump, but Jan swore she looked the same.

"Well you look very nice. And so do you." Jan maneuvered Cara so the baby was held up in the air, looking down at her aunt. Cara also wore a dress. It was a light blue with lacy white edges. She wore matching ruffle socks and little white patent leather mary janes. A blue headband sat atop her head.

Looking down at her aunt, Cara made a slight sound, almost like a whimper. Jan lowered the baby to her and cradled her. "I'm telling you this kid is gonna be a heart breaker one day. Cause she sure is breaking mine with this little frown she has."

Alice laughed and her hands worked on the clasp of a necklace she was working to put on. "I don't know about that." She couldn't visualize Cara as a teenager, never could.

Jan let out a harsh laugh. "God bless any poor bastard that tries to pull anything on her."

"Aunt Jan," Alice muttered quietly.

Frowning, Jan shrugged, not understanding why Alice was suddenly so stoic. "What?"

"Can you not swear in front of her?" Alice almost whispered, as if Cara would suddenly start blurting out a whole string of curses.

Quickly recovering, Jan laughed again. "Oh honey, if you think _that's_ a swear...well I forget you were raised by a woman that thought 'darn' was the worst four letter word there was. You should've seen Sherry as a teenager. She sure had a stick up her...anyways."

Unamused, Alice ruffled her hair. "Still, she doesn't need to hear stuff like that," she said, gently taking Cara from Jan.

"Whatever, you're the mother. But Alice, if you do make a big deal out of her saying a swear, she's only gonna say it more. She doesn't know what it means but if you react strongly, she'll know it's a good way to get your attention," Jan advised, winking at Cara.

"Noted." Alice checked her wristwatch, moving Cara to one arm. "Okay, Cara mia, ready for our girl's weekend? First a glamorous little photo shoot, then some nice dinner, and then staying for the night in a ritzy hotel. Wow, missy, for a baby and a teen mom, we sure are living the life." Alice turned to her aunt. "Really, you didn't have to do this-"

"No, no backing out now," Jan insisted, pushing Alice towards the back door. "Think of it as an early birthday present from me. And even I know you wouldn't want to spend it away from Cara here. So go, go enjoy yourself before you 'blow up like a balloon' and are outnumbered by two Cara's." The two were moving across the backyard, past the back gate into the alley, where Alice's car was parked in front of the garage. She had never actually parked her car in there, because the room honestly freaked her out.

"You're just trying to get rid of me, I think," Alice smirked sneakily.

Jan held up her hands and shrugged. "Even an old lady needs some time to herself."

"I thought you weren't old," Alice pondered, as she strapped Cara into her car seat.

Feigning innocence Jan asked where Alice ever got an idea like that.

Alice gave one last grin as she settled into the driver's seat. She slammed the door and rolled down the window. "Really, I can't thank you enough for-"

Jan waved her off. "Honestly, I never want you to thank me for anything. Now, am-scray."

With a salute, the green car disappeared from the alley as Jan watched with a fond smile. Eventually, the smile faded, and for the next ten minutes, Jan walked around the perimeter of her yard. To a neighbor, she would've looked quite odd, but her neighbors were just as odd and ornery as her, and thankfully minded their own business.

When a determination Alice didn't forget anything and needed to come back, Jan pulled a key from her pocket and nonchalantly walked over to the garage. She unlocked the door and slipped inside.

* * *

The interior of the garage was dank and mildewy, not much different from the house itself. There was a four pane window that had paper covering, so a quad of distorted, sickly yellow squares pathetically illuminated the cement ground, which had been painted over in a brown color. One of the squares highlighted a portion of the brown cement floor with a fascinating iridescent line. The rest of the line disappeared into the darkness, creating an unseen, intricate pattern.

In the center of the intricate pattern was a sturdy wooden chair. The occupant of that chair was bound by the arms and legs, head hung low, neck twitching at the sound of the door closing softly, a lock clicking.

"Oh we're a little shy, are we?" Jan asked, stepping towards the center of the room. She reached out and flicked on a harsh fluorescent light.

"Just let me go," the voice whispered. The occupant of the chair was a muscular young woman, probably a few years older than Alice. She had wavy dark brown hair with bangs that covered the tops of her eyes and mocha skin. Her tight jeans were ripped, button up shirt stained with blood.

Jan laughed and slowly began to circle the girl in the chair. "Now come on, you're just making me sad now. I expected so much more."

The young woman pulled at the ropes. "Please, just let me go," she cried feebly.

Strolling over to door, Jan knocked a piece of wall beside it. "Hear that? _Nothing._ The whole place is sound proofed. You can drop the victim act." A workbench was set up below the paper covered window. The surface was covered in random assortments of various containers and tools. Jan picked up a clear container with water, seemingly innocuous. She went and stood over the woman, and upturned the contents of the container onto the woman's head.

The scalp started to blister and the skin on the forehead turned an angry red. The woman shook her head vigorously and let out a bone chilling scream that reverberated around in Jan's head. She tore at the restraints in absolute mania and the breath that came out of her was like steam from an engine. With complete torment, her eyes found Jan's.

And Jan saw her eyes were black.

"There you are," Jan growled.

* * *

Jan had paced around the demon so many times the monster herself was dizzy. After dropping the innocent act, the demon lounged back in the chair, as if the holy water in her air and salt on her eyelashes didn't faze her. There were still deep red fissures on her face from where the holy water stung her. "Don't I get my one phone call?"

With a laugh, Jan stopped behind the demon. "That's really cute, honey. But I can tell you something." She leaned close so her mouth was pressed up against the demons ear. "There ain't no one in Heaven, Hell, or Earth looking for your ass."

"Ooh, that gave me chills," the demon hissed tauntingly. In response, Jan flicked some salt towards her face.

"Does that hurt? Hopefully the pain will jog your memory because I wanna know what you were doing stalking after my niece and her daughter."

The demon grinned. "I think you know the answer to that. Nothing personal against goody goody Alice or sweet little Cara; they were just ammunition really, canon fodder."

Jan crossed her arms. "Because you had some beef with some hunter and thought going after his son's girl would somehow get to him. But you know, you were wrong in two ways.

"One: I used to be a hunter. I'm sure you weren't expecting that, but the little mind reader that you are, I thought you would have anticipated that. And two: Dean already warned me about you and your posse."

Poised with the bottle of holy water, Jan watched as the demon flinched. "So, I don't need to know your unclean past with John Winchester-by the way, nice hunter to try and go after. But there's one thing I'll admit I don't know. How did you get away?"

"I didn't. Daddy Winchester smoked me out of some metal mouthed, pimple faced tweenager."

Pausing for a moment in confusion, the bottle held loosely in one hand, Jan thought for a moment, a mask of cool collection still naturally held in place.

"You're wondering why I'm not in Hell. I clawed my way out. I have a certain knack for that. Even if I'm just some low level demon, I'm known pretty well."

"Yeah?" Jan let herself be amused, trying to keep herself level. She knew damn well it was possible for a demon to crawl out of Hell. This one was evidently a little full of itself.

"They call me Sonja."

Jan remained unimpressed. "Well, I've never heard of you. And I don't know anyone who has. Can't be that famous."

"I will be, oh I _will be,"_ Sonja assured with a crazed tone. She pitched towards Jan, the whole chair inching towards the edge of the freshly painted devil's trap. She didn't seem to notice it, but stopped moving just in time. "Look, I had nothing against Allie and her baby, but you keeping me up in here, tied and in a devil's trap in your _garage,_ that's something I won't stand for."

"Well then take a seat." Sonja was absolutely delusional, insane. The demons Jan remembered exorcising were usually cunning and ruthless and fatally intelligent. "I'm so sorry you feel like I've disrespected you, but when I find a monster lurking outside my living room window while my baby grand niece is playing with her toys, you can understand why I'd be a little upset."

"Please. I tried to get into your house, but it seems like you know a few tricks. I know not to underestimate you."

"Look at you bitch, you do learn fast."

"So let's chat, Janet."

Jan frowned. "I don't need to know your sob story like some frumpy little farm girl trying to make it in Hollywood. There's nothing to talk about."

Sonja shrugged, like she didn't care. "That's fine. One day, you will know my story. You'll have it seared in your mind."

"Descriptive. Until then, I wanna give you something in return. Give me a minute, I'm a little rusty." Jan returned to the workbench and shoved some materials aside. A few objects clattered to the ground as Jan pulled up a wrinkled and stained piece of paper. She blew on it to dust it off and walked back over in front of Sonja, as if she wanted to show her something.

"What'cha got there?" Sonja asked, head craning forward a bit.

Jan laughed shortly. "Well I can tell you it's not to take down your biography. _Omnipotens, qui fugabunt maligni spiritus invoco."_

Suddenly straightening, Sonja's eyes widened and turned black. "No no no no no. You're not doing this to me. I know what this is and it's not going to happen," she coughed. Jan noted the effectiveness of the ritual. That would explain why it was so short.

"Oh I am. I'm not doing this for you, but the poor waitress I assume you jumped. I swear, what's with you demons always going for the hardworking blue collar class? Shameful. Anyways, _quia pius es, hunc peccatorem ab igne inferni."_

The coughs turned into wet laughter, and Jan nearly dropped the paper in surprise when she noticed clumps of blood like drool trailing down the side of Sonja's face, her nostrils, and the corner of her eyes. Sonja's eyes flashed from black to the normal brown color several times in a matter of seconds. Her body was contorting against the ropes in a way that even the older woman found disturbing.

"You've never seen this before, have you?" Sonja asked. She had resorted to closing her eyes, but her voice still sounded as if her lungs were coated in tar. "Everything's sharper from the pain. But that little Latin poem you got there, that's St. Maniglia's, isn't it?"

Jan looked down at the paper. It was an exorcism from the Roman Catholic Church that had been used in the fourteenth century to expel several demons from a woman that was later canonized for her bravery. The woman, christened St. Maria Maniglia, had the exorcism named after her, known as Maniglia's Prayer. She hadn't used it in decades, and the few times she had, it had gotten the job done when time was of the essence. The last time she had used it, a father of two children was bleeding out badly and didn't have much time. Maniglia's Prayer.

Jan continued anyways. " _Mali spiritus in virtute Christi derelinquam hunc-"_

" _Pro salute animae,_ bla bla bla, yeah yeah yeah." When Sonja uttered some of the words, a deep guttural cough wracked her entire body. She sweated profusely but still managed to hold on.

"You just love having a hand in your own destruction, don't you?"Jan asked, nevertheless intrigued by the demon.

"When that prayer is branded on my twisted little soul, I do."

"What's that?"Jan asked. She crossed her arms and squatted down so she was level with Sonja's face.

"I said," Sonja coughed up more blood and blinked her eyes rapidly. They had settled back to the normal color. "My family and I were the original models."

Jan couldn't help her reaction. Her eyebrows shot up below her frizzed bangs. She felt an itch on the back of her neck. "You were one of the demons in Maria Maniglia?"

Sonja nodded, teeth glistening an angry crimson. She spat glob of blood and saliva at Jan. "Of course the whore was nothing short of begging for it. And then they went and made her a saint after that. I'm telling you, the Catholic Church has been going downhill for centuries."

"How old are you?"Jan asked, the paper hanging loosely in one hand.

Sonja shrugged. "I've lost track. I've been around since the BC. Add that to how time in Hell works differently. I have to say, I don't really know. But I'm _old."_

"All that time and still no one knows who you are. Oh darling, I don't think anyone is ever gonna know your name. Where were we? You can sing along if you know the words. _pro salute animae ad regiones caeli optimae. Demon abierunt. Fiat misericórdia-"_

"You're making a mistake! You think a small collection of words is gonna stop me?"

"Too bad you can't see yourself in the mirror, Sonja. You don't look that good. I wouldn't be surprised if you only had one lung left. _Tua semper Pater-"_

"I'm the least of your worries! I'm a _lapdog_ compared to the rest of my family. You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us! But just know, Janet Sutton, if you finish this exorcism, I will take it personally. And you don't want me to know you personally."

"I've heard enough from you.'

"I'm like a pitbull! Once I sink my teeth into some sap that thinks they can mess with me, I never let go!"

"Well which are you? A lapdog or a pitbull? You can't be both, Sonja. _Nisi et hos abolere."_

"I will come after you. I'll kill you! I'll kill Alice and her baby! I don't care!"

Jan stopped and grabbed Sonja's chin. "If I even find out you crawled your way out and step even one foot in this city, what I'm gonna do to you, you'll be wishing you were back in Hell."

"Then finish it," Sonja sneered.

" _Bestiis animam. Amen."_

The veins on Sonja's neck were bulging and throbbing. They flashed black as the smoke that was hidden deep within the vessel bubbled up like lava. Head back, Sonja's scream was mixed with a rumbling growl, that sounded like the earth shaking. Face red from blood and overexertion, the smoke erupted past the bloody lips and red coated teeth. Once completely gone, the woman's head fell forward, eyes closed.

The black smoke created an ominous cloud over the woman for a moment, and Janet felt her body covered in ice, down to the marrow. She could not move, just watch as the suspended smoke turned slightly, as if Sonja herself was looking at Jan in absolute hate.

This only lasted for a second, a fraction of time Jan would argue was longer. After that brief period, the smoke abruptly fell into the ground, the red painted devils' trap shimmering black.

Working quickly after that, Jan darted forward and quickly checked the girl's pulse. For all the blood the girl had lost, Jan was pleased to hear the beat was at least steady, even though it was weak. She untied the ropes and noticed the red welts on the girl's wrists and ankles. Soon after that, the girl was wrapped in a dusty afghan blanket that had been folded away on some shelf in the corner of the garage.

Opening the garage door, Jan pulled her car most of the ways into the garage. Putting the car in park and getting out, Jan grunted as she lifted the young woman and gingerly set her down in the backseat of the car. "Hang in there, honey, I'll get you to the hospital."

The nearest hospital was only a couple blocks away, but with downtown traffic as bad as it was, it took damn near ten minutes to get there. At each red light or slow moving pedestrian, Jan would cuss quietly, and glance back at the young woman sprawled across the back. Her skin was a worrying bluish shade, but Jan convinced herself the encouraging words for the victim to hang in there would have to be enough to tide her over. It simply had to be.

Once at the front entrance of the ER, Jan parked her car in the ambulance lane and swiftly reached into the backseat, grunting as she heaved the young woman wrapped in the blanket up. There was no one there to tell her she couldn't park there, and if an ambulance showed up, she was sure they could get around her car if they really needed to.

The doors of the ER opened slowly and Jan stumbled through them. The occupants of the ER for a moment thought Jan was the one that needed assistance. Her sweaty forehead and wild hair seemed indicative of her enduring some great pain.

But soon after that, combined with Jan's yells for help, a nurse that had just walked through the doors into the lobby took a look at Jan and rushed back through the doors. A moment later, she was back with a gurney and several other nurses. The woman was placed onto the gurney and wheeled back.

A flustered nurse in white scrubs stopped Jan, clipboard in hand. "What happened?"

Jan let a flustered hand drop from her head. "Hell if I know. I just found the poor girl on the side of the road like that."

"Where exactly?"

"It was on Birch. Near Phillips-Lacroix."

The nurse frowned. "That's a dangerous area. What were you doing driving through there?" She thought she was slick, hoping to trip Jan up.

 _Oh honey,_ Jan thought. The young nurse didn't stand a chance. "I volunteer at the youth center a couple streets over. Was driving there when I saw her. No one else was around. Thought she was dead when I first got out of my car to check."

"And why didn't you call the ambulance?"

"When I found out she was alive, I didn't think. I have a niece a little younger than that girl and all I saw was her face. Calling 911 didn't even occur to me." Jan let her voice waver, eyes pricking with tears. The nurse's skeptical gaze fell, replaced with a sympathetic one.

Glancing down at the clipboard, the nurse gave a satisfied, perfunctory nod. "Well, I think that's everything I need. M'am thank you for bringing her in." She turned away.

Jan placed a hand on her shoulder. "Wait. I know I'm not her family or anything like that, but I feel obligated to make sure the kid is okay."

The nurse smiled. "That's very kind, but I can assure you, we'll take good care of her."

"I have no doubts about that. But to prove I'm serious, here." Jan reached into her wallet and pulled out her insurance card. The nurse looked shocked when Jan shook it. "Go ahead, take it. I can't imagine that woman had any insurance on her."

Carefully, the nurse took the insurance card. "If you want to wait out here, I'll let you know how she's doing. And maybe you can go back and see her if my supervisor says it's okay."

Jan nodded graciously at the young nurse. "Thank you very much. I'll just take a seat out here."

Jan sat in a chair against the wall. She briefly thought about calling Alice, just to make sure everything was okay, and Jan wondered if sending Alice and Cara away for a weekend retreat was the best thing to do. Surely, it was the only way Jan could exorcise the demon without raising Alice's suspicions. Besides that, if Jan thought there were any more demons out there, she wouldn't have let Alice and Cara even leave the house.

* * *

It was about a half an hour later a different, older nurse came out asking for Janet. She handed the insurance card back and beckoned Jan to follow her through the doors.

"She's conscious," the nurse informed, looking over her shoulder at Jan.

Jan frowned slightly. "That's great. Has she said anything?"

She nurse shrugged slightly, and Janet didn't see her face when she spoke again. "We normally don't disclose the information of patients to those that aren't family. It's a violation, you see."

"Then why bring me back to see her?"

The nurse ignored her question. "She had no ID, no money, nothing. We believe she was robbed and that she has a pretty severe concussion.

"We also believe she was held somewhere against her will. She has rope burns on her wrists and ankles. We've also tried to get her to give a statement to the police, but she is refusing. She's refusing to talk about what happened."

"And do you think I'll be somehow able to convince her?"

"No. That would be unprofessional. The only reason I'm telling you this is because she wanted to talk to you. She said you're the only one who would understand." The nurse looked at her strangely, sideways.

Jan pursed her lips, realizing that potentially made her sound like she was the one who kidnapped and tortured the girl. While technically true, the context was invariably different. "Are you saying you think I did this to her?"

"No. That's not what I'm saying at all. She swore it wasn't you when we asked her about it. We believe her. Besides, why would someone do that to a poor girl and then drive her to the hospital and pay for her treatment? It's absurd."

Jan nodded. "I don't have a bad bone in my body. I could never do that to someone."

"Of course. Well, whenever you're ready, she's in room 137, right behind you."

The two women nodded at each other and Jan waited until the nurse had disappeared around the corner before pushing open the ajar door. She left it slightly and looked around the standard hospital room. Nothing special, maybe a little run down.

The young woman in the bed was free of blood and had a couple butterfly bandages near her hairline where Jan had hit Sonja with a holy water soaked bat. Knocked the thing right out, actually.

Upon seeing Jan, she sat up a little straighter and pulled the sheets up higher around the blue hospital gown.

Jan moved a little closer and eyed the clipboard at the end up the bed. It said, N. Doe.

She pointed to it. "What's the N stand for?"

"Nina."

"Pretty. Why didn't you give them your name?"

Nina shrugged. "I don't want them to find me again."

"They won't find you again, Nina. These nurses, they're here to help you."

"How do you know?" she whispered.

"Because I'll show you ways to keep them away. They'll never hurt you again."

Shaking her head, Nina looked down. "I lost my mind."

Jan pulled up a chair close to the bed. Nina winced at the sound of it scraping across the tile.

"You didn't lose your mind. What happened to you-"

"It was my fault." Nina looked down.

"No honey, it wasn't," Jan insisted. That bastard had really screwed up her head.

"It was!" Nina shouted, glaring at Jan. "My mother and abuela warned me not to mess with devils. I didn't listen because I didn't think they were real. I didn't think God was real either."

Jan tried to place a hand on her shoulder but Nina swatted it away. "My family, they're hardcore Catholics. And more than that, they're superstitious. I stopped going to church, and _it_ got me. That thing that said its name was Sonja. But how can something as evil as that have a name?"

Jan remained silent and let the young woman process.

"As soon as that black smoke caught me when I was walking home from work, I knew what it was and I knew if I had just listened it wouldn't have happened to me. And when it was in me, I could feel its evil. I knew it was from Hell. I could also feel its age. It was older than anything I could comprehend."

Jan patted the edge of the bed mindlessly. "Listen Nina, some people are more susceptible to possession. I don't think it means you're weaker."

"It thought it was a joke. Because I decided they weren't real and it wanted to prove to me that they were. It told me that."

"Nina, I know this is a lot, but I need you to tell me what the demon wanted."

"It was angry, irrationally angry, the kind of angry where you can't think straight and you only see red. The thing had an age old vendetta against some man. Winchester I think. He went in and tortured its family. Sonja was there. It was carnage. Even those monsters can feel pain."

"Why did this man torture them?"

Nina closed her eyes, trying to remember. She opened them. "He wanted information about his dead wife. He thought they knew, but they didn't. He sent all of them down.

"But I think the ones left are so mad because the ones that were able to crawl out were never able to find the other ones, their family. I didn't know monsters had families."

Jan silently admitted she didn't either, not demons at least.

" _It_ came back with a couple others that managed to make it out. It took them years, but they tracked down the man. They found him. But one of them followed his son all the way from Kansas where the man was, to Nebraska, to here, and back to Kansas. Then _she_ came back here after she followed back the one son and tried to kill him and the other son."

Dean must have gone to Nebraska to look for Alice, which eventually led him to Chicago.

Nina flicked her eyes up. "Your niece's daughter is the son's daughter, right?"

Jan nodded dumbly.

"She wanted to make him pay because he was the man's son. And what better way to make someone suffer than making their child suffer? She was coming for the baby."

Jan was unable to swallow.

"The monster would've left you and your niece alone."

Jan closed her eyes. "No. I would've died before I let it near Cara. But it only wanted the one baby?"

Nina looked puzzled. "One baby?"

"My niece is pregnant again. She told Dean when he came here."

Nina shook her head. "No, it didn't know that. It thought there was only one baby."

The news made Jan's stomach curl the same time she felt relief. "Nina, are there others still out there?"

Thinking for a moment, Nina eventually shook her head. "No, I think she was the last one. I think the man, Winchester, sent the rest of them back."

"Thank you, Nina."

"But what do I do now?" Nina demanded.

Jan sighed, eyes closed. "If you think it will help, you go to church. You go back and you live your life. You put this behind you."

"I can't!" she muttered.

"You _have_ to," Jan insisted. "If you don't, this thing will consume you."

"I saw what it saw. I saw Hell. I _felt_ the fire and the flames and the pain. It never stops. It never ends. And I felt myself crawl out of there and just lay on the grass, breathing in the fresh air. It was _breathing._ Something evil was _breathing."_

"Nina?"

"How am I supposed to go back to living when I've seen what true evil looks like?"

"Nina."

"It _hates_ Hell. Hates it. And it hates anyone who will send it back there." Her glassy eyes refocused and swiveled to meet Jan's. "She's coming for you."

"She won't get anywhere near my family."

"No. She doesn't care about your niece or the babies. She wants _you._ "

With a laugh, Jan leaned back. "Well the bitch can try."

"I don't understand why you're so laid back about this. That thing was the incarnation of evil itself."

"She's not the first demonic bitch I've run across."

Nina's brow furrowed. "It said you were a hunter. Do you hunt demons?"

"I did. A long long time ago," Jan said.

Nina's shaking hands ran along the edge of the sheet. "How do I keep them away?"

Jan patted Nina's hand. She allowed it. "I'll teach you."

* * *

The hospital had released Nina a few hours later. Jan took her out to eat and then at Nina's insistence, to get an anti-possession tattoo, after Jan admitted she had one. Next, they went to the store where Nina stocked up on salt.

At Nina's decrepit apartment, Jan showed her how to draw and hide sigils that would keep out demons and taught her how to make holy water using a rosary. She gave the girl a silver knife and last, a copy of Maniglia's Prayer.

Nina stared at the copy of the prayer in her hand, trying to memorize the Latin. Jan noticed a gold crucifix that had not been around her neck before.

Standing up from the arm chair, Jan gently took the paper from Nina's grip and set it on the nearby end table. "Listen to me, Nina."

Nina's eyes snapped up to Jan's. There was a fearful glint in them.

Jan grabbed both of her hands. "You are strong, okay? And you will not let this control your life."

She looked back down.

"If you let this control your life, you can bet you'll spend the rest of your days afraid. Young lady, make Sonja your bitch. It only has power over you if you give it power. So don't give it any."

Nina blinked away tears. "I don't know if I can."

"You only think that because the wound is fresh. Give it time. You'll see." Jan chucked Nina under the chin. "Kid, you'll be fine."

She nodded. "If you're telling me that, I gotta think it's true."

"Damn right it is."

Nina stared at Jan for a minute before barreling forward, wrapping her arms around the older woman. "Thank you," she whispered.

Jan patted her on the back. "Look, you've got my number if you ever need me. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't," Nina swore as she held open the door for Jan.

* * *

The garage was a mess.

Jan splintered the bloodied chair with an axe and burned the pieces in a bonfire while she worked on the rest of the garage. She repainted the entire floor, covering the angry red sigil. She straightened the shelves and reorganized them, put a fresh piece of paper over the window. After that, she put out the bonfire and poured the ashes along the perimeter of the fence.

When she was done, Jan went back up into the house and collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table, closest to the back door. She was exhausted.

She didn't feel all that great even though today was a success case. The possessed victim had survived and conquered. All the other demons were gone for now. Alice and Cara were safely away, enjoying their weekend.

But there was something bothering her.

It wasn't the fact Nina said Sonja now had a grudge against Jan. Sonja was delusional. If Jan took the bitch once, she would gladly go for a round two. It was a wonder why the demon thought she stood a chance.

What was bothering her was the fact Sonja had followed Dean all the way from Nebraska to Chicago. The thing hadn't read his mind like he thought. The damn thing had been his shadow. And he led her right to Alice and the babies.

Jan didn't know the deal with Dean's father and his dead mother, but it was obviously bad enough John Winchester went sticking his head in a hornet's nest. She had heard about the hunter back in the day. Someone who's bad side you wouldn't want to be on. Of course, Alice had to choose his son. Surely it was a coincidence, but Jan couldn't help and wonder sometimes.

But whether or not he knew, it was Dean's fault Sonja had tried to come after Cara. As irrational as it was, she blamed him for it. Alice and Cara had been safe with Jan for a year and a half and the first time he rolls around, a demon comes with him.

 _That_ was why Jan didn't hunt anymore.

She contemplated calling Dean and telling him about the demon. But she knew if she did, she would end up blaming him even more.

Nothing bad had happened to Alice or Cara, so he didn't need to know.

She then thought about calling Alice, but decided-once again-that would draw Alice's suspicions.

She felt like a liar.

Jan had told Nina to control the fear, not let it rule her.

But there was something Jan didn't tell her.

The evil still gripped Jan's life. When Alice or Cara was around, she could tamp it down, even forget about it. But for the longest time after her husband died, she couldn't make it go away. The ugly memories and knowledge of what was out there sat on her shoulders like wet bags of sand.

The weight never went away and even years later, it still crushed Jan.

She didn't know why she told Nina that. She wanted to tell her the truth but knew that wouldn't be fair to the young woman.

If Sonja was right about St. Maniglia, then Jan felt a lot like the woman. The woman was painted to be a saint, but according to the demon, she was anything but that. Maybe people saw Jan as a weird, but well meaning old lady. Really though, she was so twisted on the inside, her instinct now was to lie. Lie to those she cared about.

If that's what it took to be a saint, Jan decided, someone should canonize her right there and now.

* * *

 **Thank you all so much for the favorites and follows. It would really mean a lot if you guys reviewed and let me know what thought. I'm really glad it seems like you guys are enjoying what I write!**


	12. Hazy

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Hazy**

* * *

The fog cut through the dense forest and enveloped the shallow beams of light attempting to penetrate the haze. Moving in tandem, the three beams swept back and forth across the trees slowly, as if a scanning pair of eyes. There was a chill in the air that seemed to grow sharper with each twig or dead leaf that was snapped underfoot, beneath three pairs of feet.

"Eyes sharp," the leader of the group demanded. "This bitch likes to hide way up in the trees."

"Yes sir," two voices responded. At once, the flashlights were raised up, along with the guns loaded with gold dipped lead bullets.

Sam's couldn't help and wander, as he tried to make out the tops of the trees, reminding him of some twisted scene someone would see in a horror movie or terrifying book. This was the kind of place that would send a normal person running screaming.

They were hunting something known as a Trinka. According to Japanese lore, they were goddesses that lived high in the mountains and gave the samurais their abilities and prestige. A Trinka would most often appear as a beautiful young woman with flowing black hair and a white face. But if threatened, she would transform into a green locust, the size of a person and claw out a person's eyes, and then the heart.

Researching it had been a pain, for it was something not even John had heard of. Only when they heard the eyes were being clawed out, did they suspect it was something other than a werewolf or even a vengeful spirit.

And lead bullets weren't enough to do the trick. Trinkas were attracted to gold, it was a common gift brought to them by the samurai. But many samurai would bring them alchemist's gold, or lead. Knowing they were being deceived, the Trinkas would transform into the insect-like beasts and devour the samurai, ultimately bringing shame and dishonor to their legacy.

And how a Trinka had gotten to a national park in Utah, one could only imagine.

Considering there were so many unknowns about this case, Sam was surprised John was letting him come along. Even for some creatures that John believed were too dangerous for Sam but were common-like wendigos and ghouls-the man allowed his youngest son to tag along.

Last week, when Sam and Dean were pulled out of their beds at the crack of dawn by their father was a jarring event. After being at Bobby's for a month, they had fallen into a rhythm. Although it was a stressful one, Sam still relied on the monotony of it to pull him through. If he knew what was going to happen, he would be fine.

And now, here he was, not even a week later, returned with their father who gave them a very short and gruff summary of what happened with the demons, ending with him not wanting to talk about it or hear Sam and Dean talking about it ever again. John's word was law, so that's how it went. And off they went on another hunt, this time Sam right along his father and older brother.

Glancing over at Dean, who was slightly ahead and to the left, Sam couldn't help but shake his head. Dean had always been simple. He would chase skirt, hunt monsters, and eat greasy food. He was generally in a good mood and when he was in a bad mood, it usually had something to do with John, although he would never admit to that.

Now, Sam didn't really want anything to do with Dean.

He was in a pissed off mood, and that rubbed John the wrong way most of the time now. Dean tended to ignore Sam for the most part. Sam wouldn't go as far to say that Dean was neglecting him, but for the first time in his life, Sam couldn't say one hundred percent he felt like his brother was there for him.

Never had he felt like that. For as long as he could remember, Dean was the one safety net Sam had, the one thing that remained constant. Now that the constancy was gone, Sam wasn't quite sure how to fend for himself when nothing was certain anymore.

But he would try.

He had to.

* * *

He had to try, Dean thought. It felt like he was in a week-long dream he couldn't wake up from. It was halfway between a nightmare and a nonsensical dream. But the only thing he could think of was Alice's stomach growing in size, a baby forming that would be a person in the world in a few months. A person, who like Cara, was partially him.

When he thought about Cara, there was something that constantly surprised him: he _missed_ her. Although he had only held her a few times and saw her for a few days, her grasp on him after he went away sunk deep within his heart. Every day, he would wake up when John and Sam were still sleeping and would carefully remove the picture of her from his wallet. He would smooth it out and stare at it for a few minutes, smiling, thinking about his daughter. He remember which day exactly he started doing that, but it felt completely natural to him.

That feeling of bliss went away every time he saw his father or brother. He felt guilty every time this occurred, guilty that he was lying to them, but also that he was unable to be there for Alice and Cara and this new baby. He couldn't seem to reconcile his two lives, for he needed to be a man, but Sam and John just reminded him he was still a kid, a stupid stupid kid.

And now they were hunting some insect goddess that sounded as made up as they came.

It was awhile now Dean hadn't felt like hunting. He hadn't felt like doing anything but running back to Alice. That would be so easy to do. He was welcome there.

He didn't feel welcome in this one family any longer. Although neither of them knew, Dean felt like an outsider, looking in through a stained window at the people he used trust unconditionally. Now, it wasn't Sam's fault at all, and that was something Dean regretted, that he was thinking that way about his brother.

The opposite of that, Dean was beginning to see his father in a new light. He always respected the man, always believed John was doing the best he could do.

But now, as someone who was going to be a father of two kids who was being pulled in so many different directions, Dean felt himself identifying with his father. In accordance with that, he could feel the strain John was constantly under and felt himself embodying that anger, even towards the man he felt himself becoming.

It didn't make any sense.

Everything just felt hazy.

Dean had always been one to be focused on a hunt, but not this time.

So when the canopy of the trees began to rustle, John only noticed just as a hauntingly beautiful face as pale as the moon, surrounded by black swooped downwards, and slowly morphed into a scaly and red eyed bug with long pincers that forced Dean to the ground.

As the pincers went for Dean's eyes and heart at the same time, several gun shots went off, from two different directions.

In a panic, Sam and John both emptied their guns into the monster that morphed back to a young woman before bleeding black and turning to dust, the bullets crumbling as the scream of the Trinka lingered long after her form had returned to the earth.

The guns were then dropped without haste and the other two still standing dropped down, knees landing on the soft, mossy ground. John grabbed for his older son's face, blood following a path down his cheeks in a place where tears had ran. Through his button up and undershirt, there was an angry circle of blood seeping through his upper left chest.

"Dean! DEAN!" John yelled, shaking his son vigorously. Eyes still shut, Dean's head rolled around, blood seeming to pour more quickly from his chest.

"Dad, he has to go to the hospital," Sam whispered, staring at his brother in horror.

Still crazed, John clutched Dean's torso, angling his unconscious son so he was more upright. "No. No hospitals. Too many questions. I can take care of him. I can take care of my damn son."

"He's bleeding a lot."

"I _know_ Samuel. Now help me get him up and to the car. Grab his legs." Obeying hastily, Sam scurried to Dean's legs and grunted when he and John lifted Dean.

The trek to the car was arduous. Sam's arms and legs were burning and he desperately wanted to stop and rest, but he would look down at Dean, the front of his shirt completely red, and that would steel Sam to keep going. Not even John's constant and abusive barks of command were what was keeping Sam going much longer and further than the thought he could've gone.

For once, Sam didn't need Dean; Dean needed Sam.

After dragging Dean several miles, they finally reached the clearing where the Impala was parked. Once Dean was loaded into the back, Sam took off his own plaid shirt and balled it up, pressing it against his brother's chest. John threw himself behind the wheel of the car and squealed out of the clearing, and down the two-lane tree-lined road.

"Come on, Dean," Sam muttered, keeping his eyes focused on the shirt acting as a compression. He knew if he were to look at something else, like Dean's bloodied face, Sam would crumble.

"Almost there!" John called, hanging a sharp right into the parking lot of the motel. Parked right in front of their door, John fell out of the car, kicked open the motel room door, and then opened the back door of the Impala. Tapping into his reserves for strength, John grabbed Dean by the torso and carried his nearly grown son through the motel room door and placed him on the closest bed.

Sam followed, slamming all the doors he needed to, retrieving the first aid kid that was sitting on the nearby table.

John shouldered Sam out of the way and pulled out a pair of scissors from the kit, cutting through Dean's shirt.

There was an arc around the bottom of Dean's heart that was deep and bleeding profusely. Blood gushed out with every heartbeat. There were two sharp intakes of breath.

"Sammy," John said.

Not even needing a command, Sam retrieved some rubbing alcohol and a needle and thread from the kit, first handing John the alcohol. The father upturned the bottle over his son's chest, to which Dean's body didn't even clench from the sharp sting.

"Thread it," John urged. Sam's hands worked quickly and handed the prepared needle to John and then grabbed one of Dean's hands. He tried not to wince as he watched the needle disappear in and out of the skin, pulling the parts of the gash together, like a zipper on a jacket.

"Shouldn't he be responding?" Sam asked, rubbing his hands together nervously. "He doesn't even look like he feels the pain." He paused, hating what he was about to ask. "Is he-"

"Don't you dare, Samuel," John hissed, quickly tying off the end of the stitch. When he was done, he wiped away the excess blood and placed a gauze bandage over the wound. Moving onto Dean's face, he wiped away the blood and opened each of Dean's eyes. There was a tiny but angry red scratch on the white part of his white eye.

Sitting back, John stared at Dean. Sam was right: other than the wound on his chest and the small scratch on his eye, Dean was fine. Sure, he could've been knocked out by his head being hit and by the loss of blood, but John had found no bumps on his head, and Dean's skin was still a healthy, pinkish color. He should've been somewhat responsive.

Not wanting to scare his younger son, John nodded, seemingly in approval. "He'll be fine, Sammy. Why don't you go take a shower, wash off all the blood and dirt? I swear he'll be okay, I'll watch him." John stopped for a minute and appraised his son. "I promise Sammy. You did good."

Guard dropping a little bit, Sam glanced at John and Dean and decided he would listen to what his father had to say.

* * *

It was the clearest he had felt in a week.

That was how Dean knew this couldn't possibly be real when he opened his eyes.

He wasn't at Bobby's or even in the motel room in Utah, but the forest where they had been hunting the Japanese goddess. Only now, it wasn't night. There was no dense layer of fog, so harsh rays of sunlight were permeating the thick canopy of leaves, warming splotches of the forest floor.

Standing up slowly, Dean brushed the moss and leaves off himself. He wasn't wearing anything unusual, just a pair of faded jeans, a white t-shirt, and a bomber jacket.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, when Dean didn't feel any pain. He did remember the bitch monster jumping on him and then the lights going out. Surely, if this were real he would feel some pain.

He turned in a circle and tried to think of what could be happening. There was one realization that kept plaguing him.

"Am I dead?" He asked out loud.

There was no response.

"Course not. This isn't heaven. They wouldn't let me in there. Not like that place is even real," he mused, beginning to walk forward. "And I would think down under would be a little more...fiery."

He walked some more. The ground began to slope and he moved up a hill, not feeling tired in any form. He could run for hundreds of miles and then run a hundred more.

At the top of the hill, he could see below the trees were less dense. There was another irregularity in the uniformity.

A person stood between two of the trees, palms pressed against trunks on either side.

He squinted. It was a young woman with wavy brown hair that created a curtain around her face. She wore jeans and a black utility jacket. That was all he could make out from this angle, but even from the top of the hill, he knew it was Alice.

Feeling a swelling excitement in his chest, he felt himself smiling and he raced down the hill, feeling the hundreds of miles he would run to get to her.

"Alice!" He called excitedly, nearly running into her.

When he stopped, Alice looked up, and Dean nearly fell back in shock.

He fell back, because the woman in front of him wasn't Alice.

Her face was different, paler, and sharper. The soft smile that was there was replaced by a look of slight disdain. When Dean looked at the woman as a whole, he started to see more differences. She was shorter than Alice, with darker hair, a bit curvier as well.

"Who the hell are you?" He demanded, freaked out by the similarities between Alice and this woman.

She gave a slight smirk and then scoffed before walking behind a wide tree.

Dean immediately went to follow the woman, but paused when the woman was gone.

He circled the tree several times in confusion, effectively freaked out. It must've been some kind of evil that twisted Alice into something unpleasant.

Shaking his head, Dean called for the woman to reappear, and he heard rustling behind another tree and whipped around. "Come out and tell me who you are!"

Only adding to Dean's ire, the new person to step out from behind another tree was not the woman who vaguely resembled Alice. Now, it was a young man which black hair and an imposing stature. This time, he was close enough to make out immediately.

This person also had a smirk on their face, but this time, it was more relaxed and a bit playful. The young man gave a small chuckle and crossed his arms, leaning against the tree he emerged from behind. His light eyes had a mischievous glint in them.

"What the hell are you?" Dean demanded. "A shifter?"

The man shook his head, not saying anything.

"What?" Dean goaded. "Hunter got your tongue?"

"Clever," the man said, in a deep voice.

"What the hell are you and where the hell am I?" Dean demanded in irritation. He didn't even have a weapon on him to the threaten the creature with.

The man shrugged. "You already know of me."

"Can you be any less vague?"

The man shrugged, not saying anything. The smirk seemed to grow in size. He leaned back against a tree, seeming to enjoy the conversation, seeing that it was only aggravating Dean.

Dean whacked a hand against a tree. "Well, this is all fun and what not, but where am I?"

"In a motel room in Utah," the man offered as if it was obvious.

"So I'm dreaming?"

"Something like that," the man suggested.

"Why? Is there a point to this?"

The man shrugged. "Dunno. I'm just here. I don't really know what I am."

"You just said I knew who you were?"

The man nodded. "You do. But that doesn't mean I do."

Dean shook his head at the man. At least the woman didn't say anything, but this man was proving to be a bit irritating. "I took some drugs. Is that it? I'm high right now."

"No. You're not high. Just unconscious."

Dean paused for a moment. "Who was that woman?"

"Someone."

"Are you and that woman the same?" After all, she had disappeared behind a tree and came out the other side as a man.

The man laughed. "Sort of."

"What kind of creature are you?"

"What makes you think I'm a monster?" The man countered, slightly offended.

Dean shrugged. "You said you don't know what you are and I've seen some weird things. And ten times out of ten, it's a monster."

"I'm not a monster, but I'm more than a figment of your imagination."

"So then you're real."

The man pondered that for a moment. "Yes."

"Have I seen you before?"

The man stopped. "Perhaps you should wake up now."

"Wait!" Dean commanded, holding up a hand to the man, who had turned slightly to walk away. "You're not giving me any real answers."

The man smiled. "That's because they don't exist yet."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The man shrugged. "I don't know. But maybe you'll find out. And maybe those answers will change. You just have to wait and see."

Dean was about to ask another useless question but was never able to finish.

Like a smart ass, the man clapped his hands together, and he was gone.

* * *

The first breath of air Dean was consciously aware of taking was sharp and painful. It burned like white fire as something other than air invaded his lungs. He panicked for a minute, wondering what the hell was happening.

Mind still spinning, a pair of strong hands gripped his forearms and catapulted him forward out of the white fire. A cool, white surface stopped the momentum that sent him away from the burning sensation. There was a dull ache in his frontal lobe, a throbbing one where his heart was.

Dean realized no matter how many times he blinked, he still couldn't see clearly. "What's wrong with me?" he muttered, starting to feel like he was trapped in a frozen tundra. He asked this from the white tile of the motel bathroom floor. Beside was a tub filled to the brim with ice water, not white fire.

"You got attacked by the Trinka," the gruff voice of his father explained. John draped a towel over Dean's shoulders. "Come on, up buddy." Dean staggered up with the help of his father who handed his son a pair of clothes. "Put something warm on before you freeze to death."

"But why was I in a tub of ice?"

"Your temperature spiked suddenly. Just get dressed." John shut the door and left Dean alone.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, he found a pile of blankets assembled on one of the beds. Sam, who Dean had not seen until now, was sitting in an arm chair between the two beds. He looked tiny, like he was a little kid cowering in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Where's Dad?" Dean staggered over to the bed and burrowed himself under the covers.

"Went out to get you some food and medicine." Sam sat up a little straighter and scrutinized Dean. "Are you cold?"

Trying to control the shivers wracking his body, that seemed to do the opposite as Dean began convulsing even more aggressively. "Yeah," he admitted quietly.

Getting up from the chair, Sam grabbed the other blankets from the bed and piled them on top of his brother.

"Sammy?"

"Huh?"

"What the hell happened?"

"You got attacked by the Trinka. It came out of nowhere, jumped right on top of you, just starting clawing at your chest and face." Brushing his shaggy hair out of his face, Sam moved away from the bed and started rearranging random knick knacks set out on a dresser. He adjusted the antenna on the television and opened and closed the drawers, checking to make sure his small pile of clothing was still there.

Dean frowned when he noticed Sam's strange behavior. He sat up slowly, wincing at the pain that rippled through his chest. When he had stood in front of the bathroom mirror, Dean gasped at the first sight of the angry, red wound that was across his chest.

Now watching Sam dust off the surface of the dresser with his shirt, Dean couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Sammy." Sam wouldn't even look at him, Dean realized.

Realizing what he was doing, Sam sighed and wiped off his shirt. Slowly, he turned back around and reoccupied his seat on the armchair.

"I'll be fine. I swear. I'm not going out because some Japanese bitch goddess got mad at me." Dean laughed in spite of himself, vaguely remembering the strange dream he'd had.

"It's not that, Dean," Sam muttered.

"Then what?"

"Ever since those demons, things have been different. You and Dad are different. Things between us are different."

He wanted to bark at Sam, tell him he wasn't different, but that would've been a tremendous lie. Dean knew he'd been acting like a terrible son and brother lately. But he was an even worse father than that. So Dean just remained silent, because he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make it worse.

"And when the Trinka attacked you, I thought you were dead. You were unresponsive and you lost a lot of blood. Dad said you were still breathing."

Dean remained silent, the dream he'd had becoming clearer.

"I thought you were dead, Dean," Sam repeated. Dean stared at Sam heavily, noticing how his younger brother wouldn't look him in the eye. Dean knew it had something to do with the fact things _were_ different between them. And it was entirely Dean's fault.

Sam sighed and turned his head to look down at the carpet. Even though he had convinced himself he would wean his dependence off his brother, Sam couldn't. Although Dean was very much alive in front of him, Sam kept wondering what would've happened if Dean had indeed died. Would Dean have died thinking Sam was nothing but a pest, an annoyance that wouldn't be able to stand on two feet without his older brother? Maybe that was something Dean had never thought of, but even unconsciously, it was instinct for Dean to take care of his brother, so on the most basic level, Dean had to recognize Sam was unable to take care of himself.

Sam scrubbed his palms together, no idea Dean's mind was whirring just as much.

To add to his guilt, Dean expunged the first thought he had when he found out he had almost died. _Oh God, what about Alice and the kids?_ Cara would never remember meeting her father once, and this unborn baby could never even say they had met their father. But this all had to be at Sam's expense.

Sam was there. Alice wasn't.

No. That sounded wrong too.

Dean had been the one to go away.

He hadn't figured anything out. He was just as stuck as before. And now, it was worse. He had slipped up, hadn't been focused on a hunt. He'd almost gotten himself killed, could've gotten John or Sam killed as well. He was no good to them. He wasn't good for anything.

"Dean?" Sam asked. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh. I'm fine." Eyes shut, Dean burrowed himself back under the covers, feeling every stupid mistake he made crash over him like a wave in the ocean. Turning his back to the room, Dean allowed the wall between Sam and himself to grow a little taller.

With his eyelids and black backdrops, Dean could minutely see the imprints of the forest. Like shadows, he remembered-like strangers passing on the other side of the street-the strange people he had seen in his dream. The details were hazy, but he could recall talking to one of them. They hadn't been there at the same time, Dean knew, but one of them had been there longer than the other. He wondered if it meant one of them was more important than the other.

He wondered what any of it meant.

Because all he knew laying in that bed, his younger brother broken, father absent, it meant shit right then.

* * *

 **It's been awhile since I've updated and I apologize for that. I'm taking a couple classes over the summer, so I've been a little busy. Please continue to favorite and follow. I'd also really appreciate any reviews. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated!**


	13. Silent Night

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Silent Night**

* * *

 **December 26, 1996**

 **Driggs, Idaho**

 **Freebird Motel**

* * *

It had been a typical Winchester Christmas. John was passed out in the Impala—he hadn't even been able to stagger into the motel room. Sam was curled up on one of the beds, having fallen asleep, once again disappointed at his father. Earlier in the night, Sam had suggested they go out to eat, but John was already too far gone, mumbling incoherently. Occasionally the boys would catch their mother's name.

And then there was Dean. The seventeen—nearly eighteen—year-old was on the flat roof of the one story motel. There was snow on the roof, but Dean had pulled up a crappy lawn chair from the pathetic patch of grass in front of the motel. He used the dumpster behind the motel to get a boost up.

Christmas had been a bust, as usual. Dad was drunk and Sammy's hopes were crushed. Dean had been left to pick up the pieces once again. He was left to mope. But that was until he got a call on his cell phone—his first one, something John had given him a few months back.

And that call had been the first person he gave his number to.

The phone started ringing at 2:13 AM. Now it was 4:47.

When the phone went off, Dean hustled into the bathroom and listened for the voice on the other end. "Hello?" he knew it was important—there were so few people who had his number.

"Dean?"

The tone of the voice chilled him. Every muscle stiffened. "Alice? Allie? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You sound like you're hurt."

She laughed. "Well, I did just go through the worst pain of my life. The _worst,_ I'm telling you." She paused. "Dean, I had the baby."

There was a swelling feeling inside his chest, like his lungs and heart would pop like balloons. Legs giving out, Dean flopped down onto the toilet. He leaned forward, and pressed the phone deeper to his ear.

"You still there?"

"Yeah." He sounded as if he'd just chased down a werewolf.

"I had the baby."

"T—tell me about it."

She laughed. "It's a boy. His name is Noah Leonardo and he has black black hair. I don't know where that hair came from, but it's beautiful. He has blue eyes and he has some of the most powerful lungs. He's gonna be a fighter. But the amazing thing is, as soon as I held him, he stopped crying and I swear he smiled at me. Dean I love him."

"His middle name is Leonardo?" That was the only thing Dean could think to ask.

There was silence for a moment, as if Alice was offended by what he said. "Get used to it, buddy," she said.

"Where's Cara?" he asked, not able to comment any further on the new baby, for he was still processing it. He had a _son._ He had a daughter and now a _son._ His vocabulary seemed extremely limited right now. He stuck with what he knew marginally better, and that was the daughter he'd met once.

"She's at home, sleeping. I went into labor a little before eleven on Christmas and Aunt Jan called over her neighbor to stay with Cara while we went to the hospital. Noah was born a little bit after midnight. It happened so quickly, but it was still more painful than when Cara was born."

Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I wish I could come see him."

"You should if you can."

"I wish. I'm in some town in Southeastern Idaho that has a population of about one thousand. Alice, I swear I'll be there as soon as I can." He was so determined.

She held up a proverbial hand. "It's okay, Dean. We'll still be here whenever you can make it. You turn eighteen in a month, right? Come see me then. Tell your dad you want to take a cross country trip by yourself."

Frustrated he explained himself. "I just don't want to miss this. I already missed Cara's birth and I've only seen her once and now I won't get to see Noah for at least a month. I just want to hold Noah in one hand and Cara in the other."

"I promise you'll get to, Dean. Until then, I'll tell them every day how much their dad loves and misses them. Okay?"

"Sounds good, Al. How's Cara doing? She's what, a year and a half now?"

"Oh she's a little fiend! She's talking now but she's very quiet and serious. She sometimes just babbles, stringing different words together. But she does it so seriously. The girl's got a brain and I know she's trying to tell me something. And she absolutely insists on walking by herself in public now. She hates when I try to pick her up. She's a good girl, Dean, so independent. I can't wait for her to meet her brother!" Alice alternated talking about Noah and Cara and Dean was content to listen.

Alice had eventually ended the call when she fell asleep for a few moments. That was understandable. After all, she had just given birth.

Dean sat there for a moment, cell phone clasped in his hands. There was a knock at the door and it was Sam. He wanted to know who Dean was talking to.

Dean opened the door and shrugged. "Some girl I gave my number to. She's upset I ditched her at the dance back when we were in Oklahoma."

Sam believed it and just shook his head as Dean slipped out the motel room door. "Where are you going?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm gonna go grab something to eat."

"Dad'll be mad if he finds out you left."

"He's gonna be out for a couple more hours, Sammy."

"Can I come?"

"No, kid, just stay here."

Sam frowned. "Why? I'm hungry too."

Dean was too in his head to even get irritated. "Fine. I lied. I'm just gonna go sit outside and think." He watched his brother. "Still wanna come?"

Sam's face scrunched as he observed his brother for a minute, noticing how spacey Dean looked. Whoever the girl he was on the phone with must've said something pretty nasty. "I'll stay here."

"Salt and lock the door behind me, Sammy. Don't wait up."

"I _know,_ Dean."

So there Dean was on the roof, and thinking about what a real Christmas miracle looked like.

* * *

 **Chicago, Illinois**

 **Northwestern Memorial Hospital**

* * *

She couldn't sleep. She should've been able to, after being exhausted to her core, being through the worst pain she'd ever experienced in her life.

However, there were only two things on Alice's mind.

One: How was Cara sleeping without Alice? It was the first time Cara had ever been away from Alice for such a long time.

Two: How was the new baby sleeping? Was he safe? What if he was crying?

Alice understood the idea of taking the baby to the nursery at night was to give the mother a chance to sleep.

But Alice couldn't.

Not when her baby wasn't right beside her.

Swinging her legs over the bed, Alice noted her aunt, snoring away in the surprisingly comfortable easy chair in the corner of the room. With a sigh, Alice thought how she would never be able to repay her aunt, a woman who was more of a mother than her actual mother.

Quietly padding out of the room, barefoot and in a hospital gown with large sweatpants underneath, Alice pushed open the ajar door and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. At the intersection of the corridor, was the nurses' station, where several women in colorful scrubs were located.

Tentatively, Alice slowly approached the nurses' station, flinching at a flickering light that was overhead.

Some of the nurses were busy flipping through stacks of paperwork, one looking at a computer, a few yawning and blinking awake. None of them noticed Alice standing there. She supposed the night shift was normally pretty quiet.

With a slight cough, Alice asked, "Excuse me?"

A few of the nurses looked up at her, surprised to see her standing out there in the middle of the night.

"What's wrong?" One of them asked? She was a tiny woman with freckles and puffy red hair, hardly looked like she was out of high school, much less college.

Meaning to laugh, the chuckle came out as a sudden, abrupt sob that scared Alice as much as it scared the nurses. Startled by the bombardment of emotions, Alice brought a hand up to her mouth, and tried to talk around the cries that were bubbling up in her chest. "I couldn't sleep," she said shortly.

The nurse nodded. "Some mothers don't sleep the first night."

"I know he's in the nursery, but I was wondering if I could see my baby?" The words came faster and faster.

The nurse softened even more. Alice realized how absurd she sounded.

"I can't sleep," Alice said again. "Not without my baby. I don't like him being so far away."

"We normally bring the babies to the nursery so that parents have a chance to sleep. But we can certainly bring him back up to your room."

"You can?" In that moment, Alice had never experienced such kindness in her life. She began to cry even further, feeling like a blubbering whale. "Thank you," Alice whispered.

The nurse smiled gently. "I can bring him up. If you want to go back to your room, I'll get him."

Alice shook her head, suddenly panicking at the idea of this woman holding her baby alone, even though this nurse was unfailingly kind. Immediately, she felt bad for thinking that. "No, no. I'd like to come with."

Appearing a bit stunned, the nurse, whose name tag, Alice could finally make out, read Maggie, nodded once and quietly lead the way down the dimmed hallway. She was careful to walk slow, so Alice could keep up. Alice didn't realize how difficult walking could be. She wasn't on her feet for nearly a day after Cara had been born.

"I'm sorry if I bothered you. I know I should've been sleeping-"

Alice was cut off by Maggie's laugh, and immediately became deeply offended, but decided to remain quiet.

"No, trust me, you saved me from boredom. I was about to fall asleep until you came up. People always think the nightshift is non stop, but it's usually pretty dead. We never have more than a few mothers here, it seems."

"But you have to work on Christmas night."

Maggie gave Alice a small smile. "Babies don't stop coming just because it's Christmas." The words could've been cynical, but they weren't. "Here's the nursery." Maggie stopped in front of a door with clouds and teddy bears taped to the outside. The glass from the hallway looked into a softly lit room that was bright blue, with stenciled clouds on the walls. Rows of incubators were lined up, but most were empty.

Alice immediately spotted an incubator with a blue blanket. A black haired head stuck out of the blanket.

Feeling an immediate lump in her throat, Alice tried to patiently wait as Maggie unlocked the door and allowed Alice to slip in.

The nurse at the small desk in the corner looked up in surprise at Maggie and Alice. Maggie went over to the nurse and exchanged a few words with her, and scribbled something on a clipboard.

Captivated by the small and fragile baby in front of her, Alice's hand cupped the side of Noah's small face. She wanted to burst into tears, partially unbelieving the little baby had come from her.

There had been a small part of her that was worried she wouldn't be able to love another baby as much as she loved Cara, but she found the amount of love she had for Cara didn't shrink, but instead, Alice's heart grew in size, accompanying for the newfound love she had for Noah. It was an amazing thing. Truly, Alice had never known someone could love something as much as she loved Cara and Noah.

She clutched onto the incubator, nearly weeping thinking about how lucky she was.

She was the luckiest mom in the world, the most blessed person there was.

And now, there was excitement. She couldn't wait for Dean to meet Noah for the first time, to hold him. She regretted he never got to know Cara when she was this tiny, but he would at least know Noah.

Under Maggie's instruction, the bassinet Noah was in was wheeled back to the room. Alice was careful to make sure she steered it slowly and smoothly, not wanting to wake up the deeply sleeping baby.

Back in the room, Maggie positioned the bassinet next to the bed and helped Alice climb back into it.

"Thank you," Alice whispered, attention focused on her new baby.

Maggie nodded and slipped out the door, leaving it open just a crack.

Leaning over the bassinet, Alice ran a finger along Noah's soft skin, feeling the short, quick breaths he took. Even at only a few hours old, he slept like a rock.

Carefully, Alice reached her arms around Noah and pulled him out of the small bed. She was careful not to jostle him, but sure at any minute he would wake up and start crying.

However, all he did was twitch peacefully and bring a tiny fist up to his mouth.

Alice continued smoothing his dark hair back, and she tried to figure out where he possibly could've gotten such black hair from. His eyes were a bright blue, and she wondered when they would turn brown, like they did for Cara.

"You're perfect," she whispered, and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Deciding he was the sweetest thing, Alice hummed him Christmas carols she remembered her mother singing rather stiffly when she was a small child.

Christmas at the Mercer house was always a stuffy event. Alice was always forced into her nicest dress, which for the holidays was an itchy red plaid dress with a starched white lace collar and matching fringe around the sleeves and hem of the dress. Christmas Eve night involved what was supposed to be a feast but usually consisted of dried up meat loaf and damp vegetables. After that, the family would walk down the street in the cold the couple of blocks to the large cathedral-like church that was the integral worship place in town. Alice would then sit, stand, kneel, repeat, for three hours, until it reached midnight, after which, an exhausted Alice would be dragged back home and told to go to bed. The next morning, Alice still couldn't believe, she was dragged back to church for an hour, before she could even open her presents. Her mother believed very strongly Santa was sacrilegious so all the presents were things like socks or headbands from her parents. Every few years she would get something she truly wanted.

After that entire ordeal of a second mass in a few hours, Alice's ancient paternal grandparents would come over for dinner. They were simply an older, crustier, crankier version of her parents. They spent the entire meal criticizing Sherry for how she was raising Alice, and then would turn their judgments onto their granddaughter.

Luckily, Alice only had to see her grandparents once a year, and that terrible tradition had stopped when she went to live with Jan. Alice could only imagine this year her grandparents were spitting all over her old room, utterly disgusted with their granddaughter who had a child-now two-out of wedlock.

But Alice recognized these children were the things that would save her from becoming her mother or grandmother.

Returning her attention to Noah, Alice smiled down at him. "I promise you will never have as horrible as a Christmas as I did when I was little."

She laughed at the absurdity of her old Christmas traditions, now that she was free from the boring and stiff ensnarements of her childhood, no longer waking up dreading the normally cheery holiday.

The hormonal tears Alice had shed were dried on her face. She wiped them away with the back of one hand, realizing once again this maybe wasn't all she had ever wanted, but it was all she had ever needed.

It was the perfect, the most silent of nights.

* * *

 **Here is another pivotal chapter in the story! I hope you enjoyed it an drop a review/favorite/like to let me know what you think. Also, if anyone is interested, I am in the process of posting and crafting a Harry Potter fic that has been in my head for awhile. If anyone is interested, be on the look out for that in the next couple days. Also, PM me if you have any interest in knowing what that's about, or knowing in general about this story as well.**

 **Have a great rest of summer everyone!**


	14. Baby Blues

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Baby Blues**

* * *

"Another." The shot glass was slammed down on the shining counter and in its place were two glasses full of brown liquid.

The glasses clinked together and the two men pounded back the drinks in unison.

"Happy eighteenth birthday Dean-I mean twenty-first," John corrected, giving his son a sly look.

Starting to feel the effects of the shots, Dean smiled and raised his empty glass.

It had been a good day. John had given Dean his most prized possession: the Impala. Dean had been shaken awake, thinking some monster was attacking them or Sammy was missing. But, it was John who simply threw the keys at Dean, telling him to go get breakfast in his new car. Half awake, Dean was rubbing his eyes believing he was still in a dream, stared at the keys that sat on the edge of the bed, as if they were going to fly away or roll under the bed. It was only until John clapped a hand on his shoulder and repeated what he said.

"Thanks Dad," Dean said.

When they had finally moved away from shots to beers, Dean decided it was time to ask John what had been on his mind that entire day.

"Dad?" Dean asked, while John finished his first beer.

"What's up?" John asked jovially.

Dean ran a finger through the condensation of the bottle. "Well, I'm eighteen now."

"Yeah?"

"And I was thinking that it would be cool if I took a road trip in honor of becoming an adult."

John frowned. "We spend most of our time on the road."

"A road trip just by myself, Dad. I wouldn't go on any hunts," Dean added quickly, "I just think a week long road trip for myself would be awesome. What do you say, Dad?"

John shrugged. "You're an adult, you do what you want. And what the hell, you have a car now. Go for it, dude."

A weight lifted off Dean's shoulders and for the rest of the night, he let himself go and enjoy the company of his father.

* * *

Dean excitedly and nervously stared at the three-story brownstone house in front of him. There was a rusted iron gate that separated it from the sidewalk.

This house was now a comforting sight to Dean, even though it had been nearly a year since he'd been here, a year since he'd seen Alice and Cara.

Before he could even get past the gate, the front door slammed open and his heart swelled when he saw Alice running down the front steps towards him. Once she reached him, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Dean's arms went around her waist and through the loose shirt he felt her protruding stomach-a sign she had given birth recently.

"Allie you look great," Dean said.

She scoffed. "Sure I do."

"I mean it."

"Enough about me. Come meet your son, Dean." Grabbing him by the hand, Alice led him through the front door into the house. As usual, it was dark but in a comforting sort of way. "He's up here." Dean followed Alice up the stairs to where the bedrooms are. They passed Jan's room, whose door was tightly shut, and then past Alice's room, then Cara's pink room, and lastly, they came to a room at the end of the hall.

Dean paused in the doorway. The walls were blue with clouds and sheep decorated them. A white crib sat in the middle of the room, a light blue blanket hung over the side. Jan sat in the matching rocking chair in the corner of the room, holding a bundle wrapped in white in her arms.

Seeing the two, Jan stood up carefully and gave Alice the bundle. When Jan passed Dean, she squeezed his shoulder. "Don't you worry about those demons anymore," she assured before leaving the room.

Dean had been so focused on getting here and seeing Alice and the babies that he had forgotten about the demons. That made him momentarily guilty that he didn't think of something that could be a threat to his family.

But right now, they didn't matter.

"Come sit." Alice nodded her head towards the rocker.

Dean did so and tensed in anticipation as Alice leaned forward and helped Dean take the bundle in his arms.

"This is your daddy, Noah," Alice crooned softly, running a hand along the baby's head.

As soon as the baby was nestled in his arms, Dean took one look at the tiny face and took a sharp breath.

The feeling he experienced was similar to when he held Cara for the first time. There was a swelling in his heart and an overwhelming sense of love and protection for this tiny baby. Only this time, the urge felt sharper than it had with Cara, because he had known about this tiny creature since before he was born. Dean had had months to start to gather the initial love for this child.

Dean couldn't get over how tiny Noah was. Dean thought Cara was tiny at seven months, but seeing Noah at only one month was earth shattering.

The most astounding thing Dean recognized after the shock of black hair was the intensity of Noah's stare. Dean had assumed Noah had been asleep because he had been so quiet, but the baby boy stared at Dean with bright eyes.

"His eyes are blue," Dean whispered.

Alice smiled. "I know. They're so beautiful. I kind of wish they stay blue, but they'll probably turn brown like they did for Cara."

Dean looked up. "Cara's eyes were blue when she was born?"

Alice nodded. "Yeah. But either way, she's perfect and so is he."

"Yeah." Dean went back to staring at Noah, who watched him back. Occasionally, the baby would blink in wonder.

Coming from the baby monitor, there was a soft abrupt cry that caused Alice to straighten. Another, longer cry kept her attention. She moved towards the door. "I'll be right back."

There was a noticeable hush that came over the room once Alice was gone. Through the wall, Dean could hear her cooing to Cara, who had just woken up from a nap.

That amazed Dean, that he could be in one room holding his son, while Alice was next door taking care of their daughter. There was one baby for each of them to hold.

It was kind of perfect, Dean realized.

A few moments later, Dean looked up suddenly, hearing the door creak open slightly. Time had gone by so quickly, he hadn't even realized Alice had been gone for any amount.

He almost did a double take. He knew they had two babies, but actually seeing the two of them in one room almost made everything go spinning.

Grounding himself, Dean became aware of Noah in his arms. The baby's blue eyes had shifted to the doorway, alerted by the shuffling from the doorway.

The baby in Alice's arms was not much of a baby anymore. It was a toddler.

Cara's eyes were still wide, curious, but guarded. There was a tiny pigtail on the top of her head.

"You know who that is?" Alice cooed to the baby.

Cara turned her head to look at Alice in confusion, seemingly miffed that Alice had dared talk to her.

"She's a little drama queen," Alice informed Dean. "She thinks she's too good to talk to me. Those boys are gonna have a hard time."

Dean laughed at that. "Why would there be any boys? She's a baby."

Alice smirked. "She won't be a baby forever, Dean."

It seemed as though Dean hadn't considered that thought, but he had. "Well, there's never gonna be any boys," he said, more seriously.

That caused Alice to laugh. "You're talking like my father. And look what happened to me."

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Cara is not going to be us."

"I'll agree with that, but there _are_ gonna be boys."

Dean sighed. "But that's so far away." There was so much time before that was even a possibility.

"Not as far as you think." She walked towards the rocker and stood over Dean and Noah. She held Cara out in front of her. "Here."

Frowning, Dean glanced up at Alice, not completely understanding what she meant.

She nudged Cara forward. "You said you wanted to hold one of them in each hand."

That's what he'd told Cara when she was in the hospital after giving birth to Noah. At the time, it felt as though Dean would never get the chance to see his kids again. But here he was, a month later, with the opportunity in front of him.

Carefully and skillfully, Alice helped move Noah so the baby was higher up in Dean's arm. The other one outstretched, Alice handed Cara to Dean, the toddler instinctively grabbing the arm in front of her. Once nestled in Dean's hold, Cara's tiny fists grabbed onto his shirt. She turned her head and observed both her father and brother.

"What do you think?" Alice asked, leaning back with a grin.

Dean's head swiveled back and forth between the two. "Cara's so much bigger than Noah."

She laughed. "The big girl here is eighteen months this month, and as of a week ago, this little guy's a month old. They're both so tiny, though."

If he did the math, Dean realized they were seventeen months apart. That was less than two years. And that meant more than two years ago, he and Alice were just two lovestruck teenagers in a small farm town in Nebraska. If things hadn't ended up the way they had, Alice would probably be in a dorm room somewhere, and Dean most certainly wouldn't be holding two babies- _his_ babies.

He thought of what the two would be like when they were older. Would they be close? He and Sammy were four years apart and they were incredibly close. Alice had nothing to compare it to, so it seemed like a total mystery who these babies would turn into.

But right now? Things were fine just the way they were, Dean decided.

There was suddenly a flash and a click, and Dean jumped up from the chair, thinking some kind of monster had gotten into the room. His grip tightened on both of the children. Noah gave a short cry and Cara's hands flailed around as she tried to regain her hold on Dean.

"Whoa, Dean! It's okay! I was just taking a picture!" Alice set the camera down quickly and zoomed in front of Dean. She took Noah out of Dean's arm, but allowed Cara to remain there. Noah's soft cries were soothed when Alice bounced him around in her arms.

With a sigh, Dean glanced around the room one more time, just to make sure nothing was really there. He relaxed and shifted Cara so she rested on his hip. "Sorry. You just scared me."

"No, it's my fault. I should've told you I was taking a picture." She seemed visibly upset by his reaction.

Dean reached out and splayed a hand over Alice's cheek. "No, you shouldn't be sorry. You were just trying to capture some memories."

A bit unsure by the hand on her cheek, Alice nodded and stepped back. She checked on Cara, who now seemed indifferent where she was. It seemed whatever potentially precious moment between Dean and the kids was over because she had tried to take a picture.

Dean noticed the shift too and let his hand drop, not really sure what else to say. He didn't think it was possible for there to be an awkward silence between the two of them. When they were teens, the silences were never awkward, as Alice didn't seem to mind them. And even with two kids between them, it seemed that Alice was at a loss of words, but wanted to fill the emptiness.

"Come downstairs, I'll make something for you." Alice disappeared out of the room, without sparing a glance at Dean.

Slowly following behind her, Dean was intercepted by Jan before he could make it down the stairs. At first, he thought she was going to take Cara away from him, but she placed a hand on his arm, giving him a knowing, but sympathetic look.

"It's not easy, kid. For you or Alice."

And he knew she didn't mean having two kids at eighteen, but trying to balance hunting and having a family, not to mention keeping the two completely separate, because even when he was there in the nursery, there were still scars that had their hooks deep in him, and reactions like the one he had were what kept him alive when he was hunting.

And for the comment about Alice, he knew it was hard, but there seemed to be much more weight behind the words.

"Do Alice's parents know about any of it?" Dean asked, referring to the supernatural.

Jan shook her head. "Nah. My college roommate was killed by a vengeful spirit. I was about your age when I learned. Never told my parents or my sister. Hell, even if I did, they probably would've sent me to the priest to have me exorcised."

Dean glanced down at Cara.

"She's not gonna tattle on you to Alice, if that's what you're wondering," Jan supplied, noticing the look he gave the baby.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Jan shrugged. "I probably will, but go ahead."

"What happened to your husband?"

Jan's mouth moved into a thin line. "Let's just say we met in the field, and he died in the line of fire and leave it at that." She turned and tramped down the stairs, footsteps heavier than they should've been for someone her size.

Alone on the stairs, Dean made his way down. "You're not gonna repeat any of that are you? I may have to bribe you," Dean joked to his daughter.

"No."

He stopped. "What was that?"

"No no no."

It shouldn't have been that much of a shock to him. Through the periodic calls to Alice, Dean knew Cara had been talking for months at this point. It was just strange to actually hear her use intelligible words.

It was kind of exciting.

"Is that all you can say?" Dean teased as he entered the hallway that led to the kitchen.

"No."

"No?"

"No," Cara repeated. She glared up at Dean as if he were an imbecile for having to repeat herself so many times.

"That's her favorite word," Alice said as Dean walked into the kitchen. She plucked Cara from his arms and stuck her in a highchair. Noah was in some kind of sling in Alice's chest.

"Stubborn, just like her parents," Jan muttered from behind a coffee mug, where she rested at the table. With her other hand, she caught a banana sliced from falling to the floor when Cara attempted to throw it off her tray.

Alice moved around Dean as if he were a piece of furniture. Frowning, he tried to grab her attention but she continued to ignore him.

"Allie!" He near shouted, after a couple tries.

Coming out of her daze, she shook her head and looked back at Dean, wondering why he was standing there in the middle of the kitchen. She put down the bowl in her hand. "Yeah?"

He frowned at her in worry. "Can we talk?"

She paused. "I was going to make-"

"Please."

She swallowed. "Fine. We can go upstairs-"

"Do you mind if we go for a drive?" Dean asked. He wasn't entirely sure why he suddenly wanted to go for a drive, but some vibe he had gotten from Jan-almost a plea for help-indicated that she wanted him to talk to Alice.

She sighed. "I don't really-"

"Girl, go. I'll feed Cara," Jan piped up.

"But Noah-"

"That baby is sound asleep again."

"Fine. But Noah's gonna come with. He likes riding in the car."

Dean wanted to partially show off the new Impala, but he never thought that would mean strapping a baby seat into the back bench. Sure, years ago when Sammy was a baby there had been one back there, but Dean hardly remembered that. While he was strapping the car seat into the back, Dean could see familiar indents from where Sammy's baby seat would've been.

"No, this goes like that, and the seat belt goes through here…" Alice, a bit impatiently, attempted to show Dean how the car seat fit in the back.

Once successfully in place and Noah buckled in, Alice slid into the passenger seat of the Impala. This was Dean's most prized possession. Since he had gotten the car, the few times they talked on the phone, Dean was sure to mention the Impala.

"So...this is baby," Dean introduced, patting the seat between he and Alice.

She nodded, trying to appear impressed. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

The attempt fell flat, but Dean supposed he was grateful she was at least trying to show interest. He was still trying to understand the cognitive shift that had occurred after his reaction to the surprise picture.

"I'm sorry about how I reacted for the picture. I didn't mean to scare the kids," Dean said, eyes on the road, not daring to look at Alice.

There was silence for a moment, and then she let out a deep sigh, like she was Atlas taking the world off her shoulders. "It's not you at all, Dean. It's me."

He nearly slammed on the brakes, in response, but remembered Noah was dozing away in the backseat. That, "it's not you, it's me," utterance had been Dean's mantra for years. It was the softest but cheapest way to let a girl down. And it was rare he was ever on the receiving end of that phrase.

But had Alice finally come to her senses? She'd seemed so inviting when Dean pulled up, but maybe it was an act? She must've finally realized it was better for these kids that Dean shouldn't be a part of their lives. They would most certainly be safer, maybe a little bitter or confused they would never know their father, but safe at the least. Maybe with Cara, Alice hadn't realized how bad Dean really was for them, but maybe by Dean seeing Noah so young for the first time, that gave her a kick in the pants that this man-this _teenager_ -wasn't someone she wanted around her kids, when he even would be around.

She was breaking up with him all over again, Dean hollowly realized.

And this time was worse, even though they weren't technically dating, or even an item.

This time it was worse, because there were two tiny things that would forever tether Alice and Dean together, whether or not they wanted to admit it.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Dean tried to prepare himself that this would be the last and first time he saw Noah.

"Alice, I'll leave if that's what you think is best for the kids," Dean finally managed.

She was silent. "What?"

"Aren't you...aren't you breaking up with me? The whole 'it's not you, it's me' thing?"

She nearly laughed. Nearly.

"No. I'm not _breaking up_ with you. We're stuck together, Dean. We're in it for the long haul with these two."

An immense weight seemed to evaporate out of the car.

"Then, what did you mean?"

"Things haven't exactly been easy since Noah was born."

Dean hadn't expected that they would be. "I mean, there are two of them now, that's twice-"

"It's not even that. It doesn't have anything to do with Cara or Noah. It has to do with me."

"Are you okay?"

Alice shrugged. "Not really."

"Are you sick?"

"Kind of."

"Allie, seriously, what's wrong? You can tell me." He was starting to seriously worry now.

"I have something called postpartum depression. Women sometimes get it after giving birth."

"Why?" He wasn't sure what else to ask.

Alice shrugged. "I don't know. It's just something I have."

"How do you feel?"

Alice ran a hand over her stomach. It was still enlarged, something she was familiar with after giving birth to Cara. But it still stung when she was at the store the other day, someone asked her when the baby was due.

"Honestly? Like I'm a failure."

"Allie-"

She held up a hand. "Please, don't tell me I'm not. I just feel like I'm making a terrible mother. I feel like I'm neglecting Cara and spending all my time and attention on Noah. I'm only nineteen and I already have two kids. I should be in college right now, getting a degree. But now, I have no education and no way to support my children.

"And I don't know how I'm supposed to raise a boy. I have no idea how I'm supposed to raise Noah to be strong and to be a man. Hell, I can't even seem to raise Cara right. She's so serious all the time and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. And I don't want to turn into my mother. I don't want to be cold and closed off to my own children.

"And Jan is a tremendous help, but I can't live with her forever. How am I supposed to afford a house and afford taking care of two kids on my own? Huh?

"It's all so weird because before Cara was born, _this_ is what I felt like. But after she was born, the _second_ I held her, it was incredible. I knew everything would be fine. And all throughout Noah's pregnancy, I was almost excited. But as soon as I brought him home from the hospital, _something_ inside me just snapped. And I don't know how to fix it.

"The doctors say this is something that will go away after a few months, but how can something this _heavy_ just disappear? This is something I'm going to be carrying the rest of my life!"

In the middle of her monologue, Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road, and slid over to Alice. He wrapped an arm around her and let her sob. There was nothing he could say, no advice he could give her. He didn't know anything about postpartum depression, he didn't know what it was like to raise two kids alone. He couldn't do anything but feel his heart ache while Alice broke down in his arms.

"I keep thinking that if I keep Noah close to me all the time, then that'll somehow fix me. But it's not working. He's not healing me."

"Allie, I know there's not much I can do, but I can stay," Dean offered.

She shook her head like she didn't believe him.

"I mean it. I'll stay. I'll stay forever if you need me to."

"You can't leave your family, Dean."

"Alice, _you're_ my family." And Dean meant it. As much as his heart panged, knowing how much Sammy needed him and how much even John depended on him, Dean realized he would drop it all. He would drop hunting right at that moment it Alice told him to.

She shook her head. "No. I can't tear you apart like that. The arrangement we have works."

"What am I supposed to do?" Dean muttered.

"There's nothing you can do. There's nothing _I_ can do. Although it sounds impossible, it's just something I need to ride out."

Thinking for a moment, Dean drummed a hand on the steering wheel. He turned to Alice. "I know this may not fix everything, but I think I know something that may help."

She wiped her eyes and turned to look at him. "What?"

He felt the beginnings of a grin forming across his face. "How does a change in scenery sound?"

She frowned. "Where would we go?"

"How does South Dakota sound?"

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	15. Ataractic

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Ataractic**

* * *

The pleasant breeze that blew across the plain might have made any other perfectly sane person feel relaxed, especially this early in the year, but it only miffed Alice Mercer even further, as the the fleece blanket slipped off her shoulder once again, exposing Noah nursing. With a huff, she flipped the blanket back over her shoulder.

For every mile marker they passed with alarming speed, Alice was more and more regretting this little getaway she reluctantly allowed herself on. It wasn't even that Sioux Falls, South Dakota was a completely unscenic stop, and only a bit of the worry of traveling with a one month old and a toddler, but Alice's regret was mostly driven by her desire to be in her bed right now, the blinds closed tightly. However, she couldn't do that. Cara and Noah didn't know nor care she was feeling depressed. All they probably could guess was that their mother wasn't there for them. That their mother was the worst mother there ever was.

Like Alice had been taught by the doctors, she tried to cut off the train of thought, but without paying much mind to it. Cutting off the train of thought but dwelling on it wasn't any better than loathing in the self pity she couldn't seem to escape from.

And of course Jan had been the opposite of helpful when Dean mentioned the trip. Alice kept saying Noah was too young, but Jan absolutely insisted it was for Alice's-and the babies'-best if they all got out for awhile, went on a little trip. Alice had guiltily wondered if Jan was sick and tired of having a depressed teenager and two babies in her house. Alice knew the older woman liked her solitude.

And so here they were. The young family was driving over five hundred miles to visit someone Alice had never met. The man was basically an uncle to Dean, and she assumed Bobby Singer would be happy to see Dean. Surely, he would only see Alice as the stupid girl who ruined his adopted nephew's life.

 _Maybe everyone would just be better off without me._

The thought escaped with no warning. It shocked Alice. She hadn't said it outloud, but there was no doubt she had thought it. And this particular fragment seemed so much heavier and louder than anything else that was in her mind.

Growing concerned, Alice suddenly felt the feeling of ice creeping up her legs. She knew she wasn't standing in the middle of a frozen river, but for a moment, it sure felt like that. With a sharp intake of breath, she realized the iciness was the numbness from sitting on a frozen park bench at a rest stop somewhere in southern Minnesota.

In alarm, she looked across the decent sized field, that was green grass capped with white tips of ice. Some yards away, Cara toddled around in aimless circles, Dean following behind her. The sight did little to soothe her, as all Alice could think about was how terrible she was that she hadn't made Cara wear any mittens. If the toddler were to fall forward in the grass, her hands would get hurt from the child. Alice hadn't thought to put any mittens on her as the temperature was quite warm, even though the ground showed the cold was not ever too far in the past or future.

As if the world was out to punish Alice for the terrible mother that she was, Cara suddenly tripped and fell forward into the grass, face smashed into the ground. With a gasp-maybe a tad bit overdramatic, Alice would later scold herself for-Alice jumped up from the bench, which startled Noah, who began to whimper.

Adjusting so Noah calmed down and began nursing again, Alice began to walk briskly towards Cara, who had already been scooped up into Dean's arms. Her tiny nose and fists were red.

"Bad grass!" Cara pointed a tiny hand towards the ground and wagged her finger at it.

Dean was completely enamored she had put two words together like that. Although the little girl didn't talk much, Cara knew more words than she seemed. Alice had seen it, when Cara would out of the blue say the correct name of something without Alice pointing it out.

"Is she okay?" Alice demanded, reaching Dean. She placed a hand on Cara's cheek, as if to see if she had a fever.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, she's tough. Kids fall all the time. You should've seen Sammy when he was learning how to walk. That kid ran into everything."

Feeling like a smack across the face, Alice chastised herself that she should've known that.

"I know I should've put mittens on her," Alice muttered to herself, turning away from Dean.

"Allie, she's fine," Dean insisted, winding an arm around her.

She nodded stiffly. "We should go soon. I think Noah's almost done. He's probably gonna fall asleep soon. Hopefully Cara will take a nap too."

* * *

The scenery of South Dakota was marginally more exciting than Illinois, so at least Alice had something to look at. They were only about a half an hour away when Alice's anxiety started to kick in.

"You told him we were coming, right Dean?"

"Yep," Dean said, eyes focused on the road.

"And you're sure he's okay with this? I mean I don't want to barge in out of the blue and-"

"Allie! Just breathe. Trust me, it's fine. Bobby was really excited when I told him you and the kids were coming to visit."

Skeptical, Alice nodded and turned around to check on the babies. Cara was still knocked out and Noah seemed to be awake, but was content with looking around the leather interior of the Impala.

Biting her tongue, Alice went back to looking out the window when she saw the speedometer. She already yelled at Dean for going five over the speed limit and she could tell he was not used to being told to slow down while driving. She didn't want to stress him out any further.

Alice took a steadying breath which didn't do much to inspire calmness in herself.

* * *

Hands gripping the edge of the seat, Alice sat rigidly as she glanced around the property. It looked like a place where old junkers came to die, and Alice very quickly deducted it wasn't a safe place for the kids. Not especially for Noah, but Alice wouldn't it put it past Cara to try and climb up a pile of cars.

"That's Bobby." Dean put the car in park in front of the house, indicating the man walking down the stairs towards the car.

Alice surveyed the man. He wore a baseball cap, had a plaid shirt with a vest over it, light wash jeans, and a fully grown beard. He looked mean. She was instantly terrified of this man and his reaction to meeting her.

While she was lamenting over his scariness, Dean swung out of the car and pulled the man into a tight hug. They slapped each other on the back and pulled away.

"It's good to see you, boy," Bobby said, patting Dean on the shoulder one last time.

Suddenly, both men turned their attention to the car, Alice realized she couldn't sit there anymore without looking like an imbecile.

Shakily opening the door, Alice plastered on her warmest smile and gently shut the car door. She stiffly walked towards Dean and this new man, Bobby. "It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Singer." She held out a hand for him to shake.

The man scoffed, and she knew she had been right. He hated her. He absolutely-

Her train of thought was cut off by Bobby engulfing Alice in a hug. She squealed in surprise and slowly hugged the man back. Was he actually excited to see her? There was a tiny glimmer of hope wriggling around in her brain.

"Nice to finally meet you, Alice. Dean never shuts up about you, so it's great to finally put a face to the name. and please, call me Bobby."

She nodded, feeling a smile, genuine smile spreading across her face. It widened when she saw Dean's reddening face.

Dean coughed. "Maybe you want to meet the kids."

Bobby nodded eagerly. "Sure do."

Each of the parents opened the back doors and pulled out a child. Alice wrapped an extra blanket around Noah and Dean pulled Cara out, who was slowly waking up. The two walked around the car until they stood side by side, right in front of Bobby.

"This is Cara," Dean introduced, bouncing the toddler in his arms. Over the past few days, Cara had grown quite accustomed to being in Dean's arms.

"And Noah." Alice angled Noah so Bobby could get a glimpse at the baby's face.

"Yep. That kid's gonna be a blue-eyed heartbreaker," Bobby predicted.

That made Alice's heart soar. She loved Cara's brown eyes, but the thought of Noah keeping his blue eyes forever made Alice inexplicably happy. And to hear someone else say made it somehow seem like his eyes would stay blue.

Bobby turned back to Cara. "And you, little miss, I have a feeling your Daddy is gonna be fending off the boys."

The smirk fell from Dean's face. "Nope. No boys. Not ever."

Cara turned and looked at Dean. "Boys?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Yes?" She asked. She was messing with him. His eighteen month old daughter was messing with him. There was no other explanation, because Dean didn't think he had ever heard her say much of anything other than 'no'.

"Oh she's a stinker," Bobby snickered, enjoying seeing Dean as a father-something he didn't think he'd ever see, especially this young.

"She gets it from her mom," Dean responded, smirking over at Alice.

"Ha ha," she laughed monotonously.

A sharp wind suddenly whipped through the air. Bobby playfully smacked Dean across the back of the head. "You're gonna make this poor woman and these kids stand out here in the cold?" Bobby suddenly snatched Cara from Dean's arms. Surprisingly, the toddler didn't seem to mind the shift in who was holding her. With both hands, she grabbed onto Bobby's beard and leaned towards him, to get a better look at his face.

"But I-" Dean tried to speak for himself.

"Yeah Dean," Alice goaded, feeling much better as she followed Bobby into the house. She was pleased to see Cara responding so warmly to someone, a stranger, especially. Alice immediately knew this man was as good as Dean promised he would be.

The interior of the house was dim and decorated by mismatched, old furniture. It immediately comforted Alice, reminding her of Jan's house.

When Dean got back with the luggage, Bobby ushered the family up the stairs. "There's a guest bedroom at the end of the hall you can use," Bobby said, more to Alice than Dean.

Reaching the room, Bobby swung the door open and Alice almost burst into tears.

There was a queen sized bed in the room with that was a pale light green color, but that wasn't what had caught Alice's eye. On either side of the bed were two cribs. They were a light wood color, maybe built from cedar. It was evident these cribs were newly assembled.

"Are these for the kids?" Alice asked softly.

Bobby shrugged. "Course. I couldn't have them sleeping on a bed and falling off. They're not fancy, but I reckon they'll do."

Speechless, Alice felt her eyes brimming with tears.

Dean placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bobby, you really didn't have to. We brought playpens for them to sleep in-"

"Nonsense! They're not sleeping in any playpens. And 'sides, I didn't know how often these two would be staying over, but I guess I assumed it wouldn't hurt anyone if they had a place to sleep if ever they needed one." Bobby grew bashful at the last part, something Alice didn't think she would ever see.

Handing Noah to Dean, Alice rushed forward and threw her arms around the man. Cara had been placed on the floor, now peering through the bars of the nearest crib. Alice's arms wound tight around Bobby's neck as she began to cry openly.

"You built them cribs?! That's one of the most thoughtful things anyone has done for them!" Alice cried. "Thank you! I can't believe you went to all the trouble of doing that." Pulling away, Alice continued to wipe her eyes. "So thoughtful," she whispered, mostly to herself.

A bit embarrassed by all the attention, Bobby tried to brush it off that it was nothing. "You don't need to thank me. That's what family does for each other."

 _Family._ There was that word that used to be so triggering for Alice. With her parents, there had never been any love or compassion, just stiffness and lofty expectations. Back when she still lived with her parents, she didn't think family could be anyone who wasn't blood related or related through marriage. That narrow definition had really squeezed shut her horizons.

But now, Alice realized family was so much more than blood. People who cared were the ones that were family.

She was so thankful Cara and Noah would get to know so many wonderful people they could consider family.

"Family," Alice repeated softly, trying out the word.

"Guess you better get used to seeing me, girlie," Bobby said, grabbing one of the bags from Dean and setting it down on the foot of the bed. "I've got dinner in the oven right now. Better go check on that. You guys settle in and come down whenever you're ready." Leaving the room, Bobby quietly shut the door behind himself.

Dean and Alice smiled at each other lightly once they were alone. Dean began unpacking the bags while Alice shed Noah's winter clothes off and changed both of the babies' diapers.

When they had everything where it was supposed to be, right before leaving the room, Alice kissed Dean lightly on the lips. "Thank you for bringing me. I guess I did need this," she whispered.

* * *

Trying to hide a wince as Alice took a bite of an overcooked chicken that at the same time was completely damp, she shoveled a spoonful of black beans in after to mask the taste. It reminded her of her mother's cooking, but worse. The beans were fine, as all they had to do was be heated up in the microwave for only a few minutes. So Bobby wasn't a good cook, and Alice wondered what the man normally ate everyday. However, from what Dean had said, he had never seen the older man cook in his life. The fact that Bobby had attempted to make a meal for Alice was enough to slap a grin on her face and attempt to eat whatever was put in front of her.

However, halfway through the meal, Bobby was having a hard time finishing his chicken. He pushed his plate away with a disgusted look. "I'm ordering a pizza." Standing up, he moved towards the phone on the wall.

Thinking Alice was doing a bad job at hiding her distaste, she quickly jumped up. "No no! I think it's delicious! I love the chicken-"

Bobby only laughed. "You don't need to try and pretend like you like. I couldn't even finish that and I could eat leather before I eat that. What kind of toppings do you like, Alice?"

"Umm, anything is good, thank you," she said.

"You don't need to be so polite," Bobby assured gently.

Alice took a deep breath. "Pepperoni. I really like pepperoni."

With a smile, Bobby saluted her. "Aye aye m'am. One large pepperoni pizza coming right up."

After the pizza had been ordered, Bobby unceremoniously dumped the chicken into the garbage and dropped the plates into the sink. He came back to the table with three beers and placed one in front of Alice and Dean each, and then opened the last one for his own.

Lips turning down at the alcohol in front of her, Alice slowly nudged the bottle away from her.

"You don't drink?" Bobby asked, realizing that maybe he should've asked rather than assume that she drinks.

She shrugged. "I just...I hate beer. You don't happen to have any red wine do you?"

Bobby shook his head. He should've figured a girl like this would like a glass of red wine. "Sorry I've only got beer and liquor."

Her head poked to the side. "What kind of liquor?"

He shrugged. "Whiskey, vodka, tequila, rum-"

"I'll take some tequila."

"Pardon?"

Sheepish, Alice looked at the table. "Could I have some tequila?"

"You like it in a drink or-"

"A shot's fine, thank you," Alice responded softly.

Dean was quietly sipping his beer, watching the exchange with a level of disbelief. He and Alice and drank when they used to sneak out together, but she was always been hesitant to do it. He didn't think having two kids and being pregnant for eighteen months total would've lended much time for her to drink.

Skeptically, Bobby set down a shot glass and topped it off with tequila. Before he could turn to the fridge to get a chaser for the girl, she seized the glass and downed the liquid like a pro. She slammed the glass upside down on the table, and seemed completely unaffected by the burning liquid.

After sighing, Alice noticed Bobby and Dean both staring at her incredulously. She smiled and went on to explain. "Don't worry, I never drank while I was pregnant. I was always very careful about that. And that's the only thing I'll drink. More than a couple drinks while breastfeeding isn't exactly recommended."

Dean and Bobby both nodded, trying to ignore the last part of her explanation. They nodded, deciding the poor girl no doubt deserved a drink once in awhile.

While Dean and Bobby nursed their beers, the three fell into easy conversation, one where there was lots of laughs and revelations. Each person learned something new about the other two that night. Apparently Bobby had been the first chair clarinet player in middle school. Alice had once ran away from home when she was fourteen but came back before her parents noticed. Lastly, Dean admitted he was busted when father his caught him in a club in New York City when he was only sixteen.

By the time the pizza was finished, Noah and Cara were both sleeping upstairs in the cribs. Alice had a baby monitor sitting on the table beside her.

Shortly after that, Bobby said he was going to turn in for the night. He threw the pizza box away and told Alice she better not dare do any dishes after he went to sleep.

Once it was just the two young parents, Alice scrambled for something to say, now that she and Dean were alone for the first time in a long time. For a moment, she didn't remember how to interact with him without a baby nearby or Jan or Bobby.

Finishing his beer, Dean slid it across the table and stood up. He wordlessly held out a hand for Alice. She stared at it, contemplating what that hand meant, and what it meant for them.

Inwardly smiling at Alice's mind in motion, Dean nudged her. "It's fine. It won't bite. I just want to show you something."

The two grabbed their coats and Dean led the way out the back door. The baby monitor was in Alice's hand, the other held in Dean's.

It was particularly peaceful this night. The temperature had dropped a bit, but was still quite tolerable for winter. The frozen gravel created a soft crunching sound as the pair made their way across the salvage yard, towards a garage a few hundred yards away from the house.

"No bathtub?" Alice jeered lightly, nudging Dean, as they navigated through the piles of cars, some five cars high. The effects of the drink were lingering lightly, just enough that she felt at ease, but not tipsy. She felt a genuine grin cut across the space between the two of them. Feeling nostalgic and uncharacteristically courageous, Alice leaned forward and pressed her lips to Dean's. Her hands felt their way to his biceps, which she squeezed lightly.

Forgetting all the time and space and change between them, Dean responded eagerly, placing his hand on Alice's neck, feeling her racing heart, as he hungrily deepened the kiss. He backed the two of them up until Alice leaned back against the warped hood of a car. They pressed closer together as their hands discovered the places they hadn't felt in nearly a year.

But it was like no time had passed.

Three years and two kids later, Alice and Dean could fall back into the rhythm of how things were in those fragmented period when they were together.

A few moments later, things didn't escalate as they had in the past. Instead, it seemed as though Dean and Alice both came to the realization that they weren't high schoolers anymore, but parents. That seemed to sober them enough for them to reluctantly pull their hands away and take a step back.

A bit out of breath, Alice, still craving Dean's touch, nestled into his side. "What did you want to show me again?"

Content to throw his arm around Alice, he pointed towards the garage. "Follow me."

The two trotted over to the garage, and Dean darted inside to retrieve a ladder. Propping it up, he made sure it was sturdy by testing out a few of the steps. After stepping off, he allowed Alice to pass him and make her way up.

Halfway up the ladder, Alice took a misstep. Her grip tightened on the sides of the ladder and she gasped. Dean immediately placed a hand on the back of her thigh, a silent reminder that there was something between her and the ground.

Comforted by that, and a bit embarrassed by her antics, Alice steeled herself and forced her way up the rest of the ladder, careful to not look down at the ground. Once her hands were flat on the roof, she scrambled her way up, trying to find some solid footing where she wouldn't fall off.

Dean appeared a few seconds after her, and took a hold of her upper arm. "Here, scoot this way," Dean instructed, climbing toward one end of the roof.

The section of the roof Dean navigated towards was flatter than the sharper angle they'd climbed up onto. This soothed Alice's vague fear of heights. Adjusting themselves on the roof, Alice leaned onto Dean, who wrapped a secure arm around her, supporting her weight, and as a result, calming her.

The sky was a deep blue color, not black like many associated with night. A net of stars that Alice hadn't seen since Broken Bow was cast over the sky. From living in Chicago for so long, she forgotten the sky could even look like that. She couldn't even recall the last time she'd taken time to just look at the sky.

"How are you? You have to be exhausted from driving." Alice whispered softly. Her fingers on one hand traced circles around Dean's knee, as she found a constellation for the first time, one she'd only ever read about.

It was such a small detail, but Dean couldn't help himself from smiling in wonder. He didn't need any more reminders that Alice was incredible, and her asking how he was was another small one. Even when she was waist deep in her own worries, she was always there to ask about him. She was really the only one to ever ask him about how he was. He was sure she wasn't the only one who cared, but she was definitely the one that cared the most deeply and genuinely.

"I feel like everything's just right," he answered. He stared at the top of her lovely brunette head, followed running a hand through her hair. "How are you feeling?" Dean asked softly, well aware of the risk with that inquiry.

The question didn't trip Alice, a sign she was at ease. She responded languidly. "I feel...peaceful." She let out a deep, content sigh, eyes moving from the sky, downward. "We always find the oddest spots," she commented, no doubt referring to the junkyard, and that parking lot of the Italian restaurant. And now here they sat on a roof, overlooking piles of rusting cars.

"Better than some bench on a sidewalk or a random fountain in a park."

"Thank you," Alice murmured, turning her face into Dean's chest.

He chuckled. "For what?"

"For bringing me here. I'm sorry for thinking this trip would be a disaster."

"You never need to apologize to me, you know. Or say you're sorry," Dean assured.

"It's just not in my nature." The comment was self-flagellating. It was merely an observation.

"I know it's not. It's part of what makes you too good for me."

Alice shook her head, but didn't say anything in response to him. Who would've ever thought the renegade womanizer that he was in high school was so sweet? Seventeen year old Alice certainly wouldn't have. Present Alice didn't think that her old self believed Dean was so much more than the persona he put on. It was only when he tracked her down a year and a half later that the niggling, wondering part of what happened to him was put to rest. She'd underestimated him. And for that, he hadn't known he had a daughter until she was over half a year old.

"You know," Alice suddenly realized, "I used to think I needed a college degree and a big house and lots of money to be happy. Because I saw my parents-neither of whom went to college-with a small house and hardly any money. And I thought maybe those were the reasons they weren't happy.

"But that's not why. I don't even think they fell into a rut. I don't think they were ever happy, even when they were our age. I think they're just miserable people. And of course, I was an unhappy child because of that."

Dean listened silently, not interrupting her. He ran a hand through her hair as a comforting reminder he was listening.

"The worst part, I think, is that they made me afraid of the future. Because I so desperately didn't want to end up like them, but I couldn't see any conceivable way that I wouldn't.

"And I realized, I don't need much to be happy, Dean. Although I have postpartum depression, I remember being happy when Cara was born and how wonderful that was.

"Because of that, I feel sorry for my parents. I feel sorry for them because they can't seem to see the joy that life can offer. To them, everything is blue. But I don't want to see what they see anymore. And I'm sorry because they're missing out on the two greatest joys of my life.

"So yeah, I don't need much in life. Just my babies and a few people that care about me. But I need you, Dean. Even if it's not for very long amounts of time. I just need to know you're always gonna be there." Alice had never admitted that she needed Dean. She had always been able to convince herself that he wasn't someone she needed to count on.

But she did.

He had stolen a part of her heart that she would never get back.

A wave of intensity washed over Alice, a combination of fear and excitement. But, that only lasted a second. The initial feeling was replaced by a secure sense of tranquility.

Dean kissed the top of Alice's head. "I love you, Allie. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you too," she whispered, voice catching. Alice didn't think she would ever have a moment like this, one of complete bliss and assurance.

It was one of the most perfect moments of her life.

"This is good," Dean commented, tightening his grip around Alice.

And she didn't need to ask what he meant.

Alice knew.

They both knew.

That night, they created a new direction that gave them hope and a sense of security. They didn't repeat old patterns or make the same mistakes. It seemed like the first real night of this young, but complete family.

Up there, on that rooftop, seemed to have a ring of finality, like it was the end of a chapter in their lives. And it was. Their childhood came to a close. Although there was still the nostalgic innocence lingering, Alice and Dean hoped that was something that would always be there, no matter how old they got.

Perhaps just a shift in the wind, but the pair innately knew they would never look back.

All they needed was right there.

* * *

 **I can't believe this story is already at 50,000 words! I wanted to let all of you know I really appreciate everyone who has taken an interest in this story! When I first came up with this idea, I didn't know if I would ever actually publish it, let alone have people who would want to read it! It means so much to me!**

 **You can probably tell this chapter had a certain finality to it. After this, we are going to do a bit of a time jump, and see how things are a few years ahead. The next chapter will probably be a montage of a few years as a kind of transition towards the future. It's also crazy to think that this story is a little more than halfway over, and although that may seem a bit bittersweet, I am very excited to start writing chapters that occur during the series and when Cara and Noah are a little older-and I promise there is plenty to write about and much more to come.**

 **I just want to thank all of you once again and hope you have a great week!**


	16. Burning Bridges

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Burning Bridges**

* * *

 **2001**

* * *

Time as a kid seemed to move differently. Dean remembered his childhood feeling eternal, like it would never end. And he had been okay with that. He liked gallivanting across parks in the dark with stumbling and giggling girls, and then the next night sneaking through a forest, hunting down a monster that was only supposed to exist in nightmares.

More importantly than that, Dean had previously split his childhood into two mental sections. Before his mother had died and he lived in an actual house was the first part of his life. Although he didn't remember much, there were enough flashes that let Dean know those four years of his life had, in fact, happened.

The second part was the only life Sam had ever known. It was the three Winchester men, traveling the country, staying in motel rooms, and hunting monsters. For Dean, those had been the glory days. It was nothing but his father, his brother, and him against the world.

That childhood fantasy had ended abruptly, when Dean stood in a brownstone home in Chicago, seeing a baby that resembled him in alarming ways.

After that moment, Dean no longer felt like a kid. He didn't get nearly as much joy as traveling, especially if they moved terribly far away from Chicago. Hunting was still something Dean enjoyed, maybe a little too much. But there was also something he enjoyed as much.

And that was spending time with the little family he had created.

As Dean and Sam grew older, it became increasingly easier for Dean to break away from John and his brother for a while to go visit Allie and the kids. It was always under the assumption he was going on a hunt. John didn't question it much anymore, especially since Bobby was always sure to back up Dean's story if ever need be. Dean wasn't entirely sure what Bobby had said to his father to loosen up, but Dean was grateful for that.

Because of that, Dean was there for Noah's first steps, he was there when Cara had her first ballet recital. Although not there all the time, he saw his kids grow before his eyes, making sure to visit them every few months. Each time he went, it was like he was looking at different kids. Noah kept getting bigger and bigger and Cara's hair grew longer and longer. They were getting smarter and growing into their personalities that made them uniquely Cara and Noah. It was amazing to see.

He was there when Alice got her GED and then CNA and was there to help her move out of her aunt's house into the suburbs. Although not his official home, Dean couldn't help but feel like he could see himself there. As long as Alice was there, he would go anywhere. She could live in a high rise apartment on the other side of the world and he would have followed her.

However, while this was occurring, a schism was growing between John and Sam. They had never gotten along as well as Dean had with the two of them, but there hadn't really been much of a choice. Sam had been a kid who didn't have much control of his life. He had been torn between following in his father's footsteps and the desire for a normal life that he never indulged to a living soul.

Ever since he had turned eighteen and graduated high school, Sam had been a flight risk. He didn't go on solo hunts like Dean did. He didn't really want to. Instead, he sent applications all over the country.

He got a lot of letters of acceptance, and a few scholarships.

But he held out, and finally got the golden ticket he'd been waiting for.

A full ride to Stanford.

He'd been sitting on the secret for quite a while, feeling slightly guilty for bringing it up to either John for Dean. Never had he been able to build up the necessary amount of courage to admit it.

"Which hunt sounds better?" John asked, gulping down another drink of whiskey.

From where he sat behind a stack of books, Sam ignored his father, scanning the page of small print, but not really retaining any of the information.

"Hey. I asked you a question."

"What?" Sam asked gruffly, shaggy hair still covering his vision from seeing his father.

"I said which hunt sounds better? The couple that fell out of the sky twenty miles from their home and survived or the nun that-are you even listening to me?"

Feeling himself tensing, Sam prepared himself. John always blew everything out of proportion, especially when he'd been drinking-which was a daily occurence. Over the years, Sam had got used to diffusing the situation, or avoiding it all together. But this time, he was tired of having to roll over for his drunk of a father. He was tired of being stepped on.

"No, I wasn't listening to you, Dad," he replied smartly, sharply slamming the cover of the book shut.

"Excuse me?" John demanded, polishing off another drink.

"I don't give a shit which hunt you go on, Dad."

"What the hell is your problem, Samuel?" John stood up and leaned forward over the table, trying to intimidate his son.

Feeling like he was thirteen again, Sam tried to not feel as small as he used to when John yelled at him. Remembering the scholarship letter at the bottom of his duffel bag needled a slew of anger into Sam's veins. He was _tired_ of being pushed around by his family and moving around so often and hunting.

Sam was tired of being a freak.

"I'm done," Sam said. "I'm done." He repeated the word to affirm he was actually serious. He meant it. He was done with the motel rooms and the training. All of it.

"You're done? Done with what?" John spat back.

"With you! I'm done with you, Dad! I'm done with putting up with your crap! I'm done with you treating me like a soldier and making me feel like an idiot for wanting to do something with my life!" While he yelled, Sam was moving around the room, grabbing anything that was his. Hands full, he stomped over to the duffel that sat on the bed and shoved everything inside it.

"Not this shit again! I'm tired of hearing about your damn feelings Samuel! You're eighteen years old; it's time you man up and start acting like it!"

John was right about one thing: Sam finally was manning up. Although not in the way the older Winchester would have expected.

Grabbing something from the bottom of his bag, Sam chucked the envelope he'd kept hidden so carefully at John. The father caught it when it hit is chest. "What is this?"

"It's a full ride. To Stanford. I'm going." Sam replied, zipping up his duffel bag.

"The hell you are." John let the letter fall to the table. "You're not going anywhere. You have an obligation to this family-"

Sam got an actual laugh from that. "What a fucking joke. You know that's bull, Dad. You dragged us all over the damn country looking for a demon that killed mom eighteen years ago! If you haven't found it by now, you're probably never going to find it."

"You watch your damn tone before I-"

"You think Mom wanted this for any of us? How do you think she'd react to seeing you like this, Dad? She'd probably be disgusted with you for what you did to us. You screwed us up. Turned us into _freaks._ You-"

In the middle of his angry tirade, John moved like a bolt of lightning across the room and sent a terrifying right hook to the side of Sam's face. Sam fell like he weighed nothing, feeling something metal slamming against his cheek. Immediately, the entire left side of his face radiated agonizing pain.

And this was from someone who knew how to take a punch, who'd been through all sorts of pain.

But that punch _hurt._ It wasn't just the physical pain, but the meaning behind it.

"Don't talk about Mary. You don't know her. You never did," John muttered quietly. He moved back once Sam stood up and glared at his son with fire in his eyes.

"And who's fault is that?" Sam hissed, pressing a hand to his cheek. He knew John didn't have any control over what happened to his mother, but he was in shock that his father had hit him. He'd gotten close, but John had punched or slapped the boys. Sure, he'd grabbed them by the shirt and shook them a few times, but never did anything to leave a mark.

"And you think she'd be proud of you for this?" John snapped back.

Feeling his chest breaking in half, Sam shook his head, not wanting to be part of this anymore. It wasn't who he wanted to be or who he was. The environment was poisonous. His father was toxic. And he was tired of it. Grabbing the duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder and made his way for the door.

Before he could turn the knob, the door swung open from the other side. A particularly jovial Dean stepped into the room, a bag of food in his hands, causing Sam to grimace. He didn't know how his older brother was able to remain cheerful all the time. It pissed Sam off.

Freezing, Dean immediately sensed the tension between the two. He slowly set the food down and quickly noted the situation. John was leaning against one of the beds, heaving. There was a half empty whiskey bottle on the table. And then there was Sam, standing against the wall, duffel bag over his shoulder. His face was swollen.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, looking between the two.

Neither of them said anything.

"I asked what was going on," Dean demanded a little more harshly, trying to sound authoritative.

"Your brother thinks he's too good for us," John accused softly.

"Just because I-"

"Hey! Enough you two!" Dean cut them off from bickering. The fight had obviously been a bad one. Again, Dean had missed it. He didn't know how many fights he'd missed between the two of them. He also didn't have any idea how far Sam and John had drifted. But now, it was irreparable. He saw the mark on Sam's face and how John cradled his fist.

Dean turned to his brother. "Sammy, what's going on?"

"I can't do this anymore. I'm leaving."

"Where you gonna go?" Dean asked. He didn't actually think Sam was serious.

"California."

"What's in California? Besides four dollar bottles of water?"

Sam pointed to the table, towards a crumpled envelope. "I'm going to college. I got a full ride to Stanford and I'd be an idiot not to take it. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, Dean." _Please be happy for me. Please say you're happy for me._

"Sam…" Dean began, but couldn't think of anything to say. He was proud of his kid brother, he knew he was smart. But there was also a part that felt guilty. Guilty that Sam hadn't told him about this. It was obviously because Dean wasn't around enough. And Sam didn't think he was worth sharing the information with. Maybe if Dean had been paying better attention, Sam could've shared his excitement with someone else. And what would Sammy do all alone in California? He had never been alone in his entire life.

Taking Dean's tone as one of a disapproving older brother was the final straw. Dean had always been pretty supportive of whatever Sam wanted to do, but the one thing Sam wanted more than anything, not even Dean agreed with. "Whatever. It's not like you're ever here anyways," Sam muttered. He pulled the door open.

"Sam, you walk out that door, don't come back! We're done if you leave!"

"That's what I want, John!" Sam yelled back one last time. With that, he disappeared into the darkness of the parking lot outside the motel room.

John stalked over to the door and slammed it loudly.

A final, chord breaking ring reverberated around the room that was still resonating with the fight between father and son.

Dean made a move towards the door.

"You go after him Dean, consider yourself in the same boat as your brother," John warned, throwing himself down on one of the chairs.

Obediently, Dean took a step back from the door and went to sit on the edge of the bed, the one that had been Sam's bed. He tried to comprehend everything that had happened in the last few minutes.

Sammy was gone.

Characteristically, Dean couldn't help but think it was partially his fault. He was usually the bridge between Sam and John and when he spent more time with Alice, that bridge had apparently been burned.

And how could Dean not know how unhappy Sammy was? What kind of older brother did that make him? Regardless of Sam's age, Dean was always supposed to watch out for Sam. That had been his one job. And he couldn't even do that.

It obviously wasn't something that had happened over night. This fight had been festering for years. And maybe it was inevitable, but maybe if Dean had been around more, he could've done _something._

The remaining two Winchesters sat in silence for a few minutes. "What did you say to him, Dad?" Dean asked.

"Why do you think it's something I've said to him? Sam has been checked out of this family for a long time, Dean."

"Look, I'm not saying Sam should've said what he said, but neither should you. He'll cool down and he'll come back," Dean assured, although he didn't believe himself. Even though he didn't know what either said, he didn't really think he wanted to know.

"He won't. I don't want him to come back."

"Dad-"

Woodenly, John mimicked an angry Sam, by grabbing all of his things and stuffing them in his bag. "There's a case in Raleigh...a couple fell out of the sky completely uninjured. No memory of what happened."

Dean hesitantly watched his father pack in a blind rage. "Dad," Dean began carefully. "Are you sure you want to hunt right now?"

"People don't stop needing us, Dean," John barked back. John grabbed his keys to the pickup truck he bought himself after he gave Dean the Impala. "I'm not going to sit around bitching about this when he's not coming back." John moved to the doorway. "Find yourself a hunt, Dean. We'll meet up in a couple weeks."

With that, just like Sam, John left as well.

Completely alone and blindsided, Dean didn't think about much when he grabbed his phone and hit the first number on speed dial. It was instinct at this point.

The other line didn't pick up, just kept going to voicemail. He recognized that it was one o' clock in the morning, in the middle of the week, but he couldn't stop himself from calling three more times, until someone picked answered.

"What the hell do you want?" The greeting was much more hostile than Dean had ever heard Allie use. No doubt she was trying to get some sleep before having to work the next morning. He couldn't really blame her.

"I'm coming to Batavia."

There was a pause. "What happened?" Alice asked, more awake, realizing there was a reason for the call.

"Sammy left. He left for school and I don't think he's coming back. Then my dad got mad and left, saying he'd check in in a few weeks. They had a huge fight and now they're both gone."

"Oh Dean," Alice intoned softly.

"I need you Allie," Dean admitted, feeling his voice break. He swallowed back a cry. He wasn't gonna cry. Not over this.

Never had Alice heard Dean sound so broken, so childlike. It effectively freaked her out, but she couldn't show that. Dean needed her. She needed to be strong, so she would be strong. He'd been there countless times for her, and now she had to be his rock for once.

"I'll be here, Dean. I'm here whenever you need me. Forever."

"Thanks. I'll be there in the morning."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too, Allie. I'll see you in a few hours."

"I'll be here," she repeated.

The motel room was quickly abandoned and Dean found himself behind the familiar dashboard of the Impala. Regardless of everything that had happened, a sense of comfort from being behind the wheel of the black car assured Dean.

The roar of the engine was like a lullaby for Dean. He remembered falling asleep to that sound when he was a little kid. It also centered him, brought him back down to reality, and grounded him.

After coughing and grunting several times, Dean put on a stony face and swerved out of the parking lot, away from a town he hoped he never saw again.

* * *

 **A bit of a time jump, but things are definitely gonna start picking up! I had this combined with the next chapter but decided the two flowed better separately. That's why this chapter was a bit short, but the next one is more than half complete and will be longer.**

 **I hope you enjoyed!**

 **Reviews of any kind are greatly appreciated!**


	17. Baptism

**A/N: This chapter is a bit intense in places. The section under "Last Night" particularly so, which includes suicide. You have been warned.**

* * *

 **When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: Baptism**

* * *

 **Batavia, Illinois**

 **6:17 AM**

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten in the direction Dean was driving. It was a sappy thing to think, but he felt like it was a sign of hope.

Batavia was a pretty nice town. It was upper middle class-a lot nicer than any of the places they ever worked cases. It had better upkeep than Broken Bow and wasn't as crowded as the Gold Coast.

It was a good place to raise kids.

The neighborhood was a brand new subdivision with decent-sized houses. Dean remembered how Alice had been talking about moving out for awhile and how she could hardly accept Jan buying her a house. Of course, Jan said she had been sitting on piles of money for decades that she was saving for a special reason. She just hadn't known what that reason was until Alice began looking for crappy apartments out in cities where the school districts were better. Jan's reasoning was if Alice wanted good schools in a good town, she needed a good place to live.

Neither Dean nor Alice had any idea where the older women had gotten so much money, but they weren't going to ask when she had bought a house for their children.

Pulling into the driveway of the gray brick, two story house, Dean parked the car and killed the engine. He stared at the white garage door for a moment, realizing this was only the third time he'd been here. He'd been to Jan's house more times than he'd been here.

But if ever were there a place for him to call home, this was it.

Alice had a second key made for Dean, which he used to quietly enter the house. He shut the door silently and made his ray down the hallway to the kitchen. The wood floor was covered in a soft gray rug that Alice had spent twenty minutes debating whether or not to buy it when he had gone furniture shopping with her.

The naturally lit kitchen had white cabinets, gray slate counter tops, and matching white furniture. It was a stark contrast to Jan's dark home.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, Alice's head was rested on the cool table top, her caramel hair fanning out, covering her face. A few pieces moved as she breathed deeply and evenly. An half empty mug filled with cold coffee sat near her hand, delicately curled against her cheek.

Dean's hand brushed her face when he moved her hair out of the way and leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek.

Stirring, Alice moaned softly, eyes fluttering open. She blinked several times as she focused on Dean's slowly sharpening figure. With a sudden sigh, she launched the top of her body forward, and wrapped her arms around Dean, while still sitting in the chair. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. I didn't know when you were gonna be here."

"Thank you," Dean muttered into her hair, wrapping his arms tightly around her. If he had to, he would physically grip her to make sure she didn't leave. But he didn't need to, because he knew she would always be by his side when he needed her.

"I called in work today," Alice said, drawing back from Dean. She leaned forward and sniffed the coffee. Nose wrinkling, she dumped it down the sink. "I think we need to have a family day. Just the four of us."

"I think you're right."

* * *

"Cara? Wake up!" The six year old flinched when something flicked her on the cheek. Turning over towards the wall, the little girl kicked at whatever was trying to wake her from her slumber.

"It's seven o' clock, Cara!" A four year old Noah continued to poke and prod at his older sister. He always hated it when she slept so late. He wasn't tired so he didn't understand why she still needed to sleep.

"I'm just trying to enjoy my summer," Cara groaned. There were only a few weeks until she had to go back to school. After successfully completing kindergarten, Cara wasn't particularly looking forward to first grade. She heard it was much harder than kindergarten.

"Why aren't you excited for school, Cara?" Noah asked.

"Kindergarten is rough," she said, feeling like she the weight of the world on her shoulders. Maybe she shouldn't tell Noah that, because he was always so excited for school. But she had to prepare him.

"It sounds fun!" Noah retorted.

"You don't even start for another year," Cara muttered to herself. She threw the covers off of her and swung her feet over the side of the bed.

"We have to go across the street before Mommy goes to work, Cara. You can't go over there in your pajamas," Noah informed his older sister.

She rolled her eyes. "I know." While Alice worked, the two went across the street to the Barnes' house. Noah loved it, but Cara absolutely hated it. Grayson and Mitchell Barnes were the reasons she hated it. One of them was a year older than her and the other one was a year younger than her and they were terrible. For the most part, Noah and the two boys ignored Cara, which she was perfectly fine with. Usually, the girl brought a book with her or talked to Mrs. Barnes when she wasn't talking on the phone with the other neighbors.

"Well, you should get ready."

"I will. After breakfast. Now get out of my room."

* * *

Dean and Alice were in the middle of an intense conversation when they heard a door slam and two pairs of feet tromp down the stairs.

"We can talk later," Alice assured, leaning forward and giving Dean a quick peck on the lips.

"Thanks, coffee breath," Dean teaased.

Smacking him in the chest, Alice laughed. "Like yours smells any better, mister."

"Oh yeah?" Playfully, Dean lunged forward and grabbed Alice around the waist. He pulled her to his chest and buried his face in her neck. She giggled.

"Ewwww!"

"Daddy!"

Dean and Alice quickly pulled away, seeing their two children standing in the entrance of the kitchen. As usual, Noah looked absolutely enthralled to see their father, while Cara looked disgusted from seeing her parents kissing.

Forgetting the events from the night before, Dean make a pretend growling sound and swooped down, grabbing a kid in each arm. He spun them around while they giggled. He kissed each of them on the cheek. "How are my two favorite kiddos?"

"I'm good, Daddy!" Noah responded cheerfully. The day just kept getting better and better.

"Pretty good," Cara responded, wrapping her arms around Dean's neck. "Hi Daddy."

"Hi princess. And hello to you too, little man," Dean said to Noah, tickling his son under the arm. Noah laughed and squirmed trying to tickle Dean back.

After setting them on the ground, Alice bent down and kissed the two of them good morning. "What do you two think of having a super fun day?" Alice asked, bending down towards their height.

"Fun?"

"Yeah. I mean...if you don't have plans or anything like that," Alice joked. "I'm not working today so it would be cool if you guys could join us."

"I could probably squeeze you in," Noah joked, imitating someone he saw on TV.

"How about you, Cara mia?"

"We're not going across the street today?"

Alice shook her head.

Cara grinned. "Okay!"

* * *

The family had gone out to breakfast, and now Alice and Dean were sitting on a bench at the park while Cara and Noah ran all over the playground. The park was located in the community center, a particularly forested area.

"You can't blame yourself for Sam leaving," Alice said. She gripped Dean's hand.

He shook his head. "I just feel like if-"

"Feel like what, Dean? You're not his father. You're his brother. And Sam's not a kid anymore. He made his choice. I don't think there's anything you could've done to change his mind. It sounded like he was planning this for a long time."

"There has to be _something_ I could have done. I should have gone after him."

Alice felt a bit of anger for John Winchester. She had never met the man, but she could tell from subtle things Dean said that the man was manipulative, and maybe even a bit emotionally abusive. But of course, she never said this, because Dean basically worshipped his father. But as someone who had never really even had a real relationship with her father, Alice felt she could be a little more objective about the situation. "You said your Dad would've disowned you too. Look, maybe give Sam a bit of time to cool off and then reach out to him. Call him in a couple months. Your dad doesn't have to know."

Dean nodded, trying to convince himself she was right. But a couple months sounded like a long way's away.

"You're not Atlas, Dean."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to hold up the entire world, you know," Alice clarified.

"I'm not I'm just-" Dean suddenly stopped.

"What?" Alice asked.

"Where did Cara and Noah go?" Dean asked, surveying the silent, empty park.

Frowning, Alice went to point at nothing, but then faltered, letting her hand fall back to her side. "They were just here. Weren't they?"

The parents stood and slowly began to circle the park, calling for the two, and trying to hear anything.

"How could both of them just be gone?" Alice demanded, beginning to panic.

But Dean knew how both of them could be gone so suddenly. His heart gripped with fear when he thought of the possibility of something supernatural taking his children. It was the absolute worst scenario because he was always afraid that someday it would happen.

"Dean where are they?" Alice screeched when they couldn't find a trace of either Cara or Noah.

"We'll find them. Nothing's going to happen to them."

"Excuse me?"

Alice and Dean both spun around to a woman. She was probably in her early forties, wearing a striped blouse with khaki pants.

"Yes?" Dean asked, trying to stay calm.

"Have you seen two boys? I can't seem to find my nephews. They're ten and eleven and they were wearing-"

"How can four kids suddenly just vanish?" Alice demanded.

"Four?" The woman asked.

"My kids-our kids are gone. They're only four and six and they're named Cara and Noah. Have you seen them? Cara has brown hair and brown eyes and she was wearing a green dress. Noah has black hair and blue eyes and he was wearing-"

"Have you seen my nephews? Tyler or Jason? They're both blonde wearing jean shorts and-"

"I haven't seen your kids!" Alice shouted, losing her temper.

"They're my nephews!" The woman shot back. "I haven't seen yours either!"

"Okay! Everyone just calm down for a minute!" Dean suggested.

Both women turned their glares to him. He swallowed, realizing he shouldn't have done that.

"This is ridiculous. I'm calling the police," the other woman announced.

"Wait! You don't need to call the police," Dean insisted. Cops were just going to get in his way and slow him down. If some monster took his children, he wasn't going to let law enforcement screw things up.

Alice gaped at him. "Are you crazy?! You don't want to call the police when-"

There was no way he could play that off. "Look, you two call the cops, I'm going to look in the forest. Okay? Allie, I'll find them. You think I would let something to happen to them."

Alice knew he wouldn't. She nodded tearfully.

Dean turned to the woman. "I'll look for your nephews. Okay?"

The woman nodded. "Thank you."

Once he was out of site, Dean quickly picked up on a disturbed trail in the forest. He could make out the lightest indents of footprints. The footprints were all small in size and there were several pairs.

Trying to regulate his breathing and remain calm, Dean felt for his gun at the small of his back, but didn't take it out. Not yet.

Following the trail, Dean began to hear the sound of Cara and Noah's voices. They sounded like they were in distress, which caused Dean to break into a sprint. The monster that decided to take Dean Winchester's children was going to die a slow and painful death.

Dean's heart caught when he burst through a low hanging set of branches, revealing a clearing.

There was a murky pond in the middle of a clearing and there were four children near the water's edge. Two of them were Cara and Noah.

The other two were blonde boys wearing jean shorts.

Each of the blonde boys had a grip on Cara and Noah.

"No, I don't want to!" Noah yelled, trying to escape from the grip of the boy who was more than twice his age. The blonde was dragging Noah towards the water.

"He can't swim!" Cara yelled, trying to reach for her brother, but instead, being yanked back by the other boy.

"It's not even that deep!" The boy holding Noah insisted, as he was about to shove Noah into the water.

"I can't swim!" Noah tried to repeat, but his plea was cut off short when the boy holding Noah forcefully dunked the four year old's head underwater.

"Shut up!" The boy holding Cara shouted. He started to drag her towards the water as well. "Can you swim?" The question was asked with a certain sick pleasure that no kid should know.

"No! Stop! Help!" Cara yelled.

Noah's head was up long enough for him to see his sister being dragged where he was. "Leave my sister alone!" He tried to lunge for the body holding Cara but was shoved back under the water.

Barreling forward, all Dean saw was red. He grabbed Cara's arm in one hand and the back of Noah's shirt in the other and flung the two of them back with such force, that the blonde boys tumbled to the ground. Cara and Noah rolled across the ground, several feet behind Dean.

Gripping the boys by the arm, Dean muttered _christo_ under his breath, which had no effect. Neither did the silver ring he wore when he grabbed their arms. It was hard to be discreet with holy water, but that had no effect on the boys either.

They were just kids.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?!" Dean demanded. He had them by the collars of their shirts as he shook them. They weren't monsters. They were just kids.

Just damn kids.

Still, to Dean, they were monsters. They were going to hurt Cara and Noah. His only instinct, only thought was to grab his gun at the small of his back and blow a hole through each of their skulls.

"We were just playing a game!" One of the boys wailed.

"You think almost drowning my kids is a goddamn game?" Dean felt himself shaking them, envisioning their underdeveloped brains rattling around in their heads.

The boy, Tyler, suddenly dropped the mask of fear. "It would've been a really fun game," he sneered darkly, with a creepy smile.

Letting go of the two, Dean backed away from the two little sociopaths.

Just as he was turning to Cara and Noah, a horde of people burst through the same branches Dean had a few minutes earlier.

There were four cops, along with Alice and the aunt of Jason and Tyler.

It was chaos as Cara and Noah started screaming at the officers when two of them went to ask Tyler and Jason if they were okay.

"They were gonna hurt us!" Cara cried. Her green dress was ripped and her face was red from screaming for help. Noah was also a wreck, but couldn't seem to verbalize the words. All he could do was tearfully nod along.

"It's true," Dean told one of the cops. She turned to Dean and asked him what he had seen.

He told the officer. Listening to that, Alice's grip on her children tightened as gently rocked the two of them. Flashes of being a seventeen year old standing in the middle of a frozen river bombarded her. And the fact Cara and Noah had almost been in the same situation snapped her heart in two. Alice had almost ended her own life-and Cara's growing one-and now, some sick force had come around to get back at Alice for the unforgivable sin she almost made.

"It's okay babies," Alice whispered when the cops tried to question the two. Cara managed to choke her way through the words.

"We were playing and they came up to us asking if we wanted to see a whole pack of deer. They said they were in the woods. It sounded cool so we followed them. Then we came to the pond and that was when we realized there were no deer." Cara sniffled. "They tricked us."

"They were gonna hurt us," Noah echoed, a layer of his innocence burning away.

The cop squatted down in front of the two. "You two did really good. You're very brave."

Dean moved to a cop that was away from the group. "What's gonna happen to those kids?"

The cop let out a deep sigh. "We'll take them to the station and try and get it contact with their parents. An investigation will take place and we'll see if there's trouble at home, if that parents are suitable caretakers. If not, then hopefully rehabilitation and lots and lots of therapy for those kids. They're still young."

Dean choked back an angry flash, remembering the dead look that was in those boy's eyes.. "When I saw them and what they were gonna do to my kids, I wanted to…" He trailed off, remembering he was talking to a cop.

The cop gave a small smirk back. "You're a parent. I have a newborn and one about your kids' ages at home. I get it."

"How could a kid even do that?" Dean wanted to know. But he knew how. When he was those boys' age, he was already an expert at using a shotgun. He killed his first monster when he was only eleven. He knew. It made him all the more sick that he knew nothing was likely to help those boys. They needed to be locked up. He knew what remorselessness looked like.

"There are a lot of screwed up people in this world. They've gotta start somewhere, I guess."

"And her?" Dean chucked his chin towards the aunt.

The cop looked back at the older woman. She was leaning back against a tree. Arms were wrapped around her form, she appeared incredibly fragile, like she was an icicle that would snap in half or melt. Two cops stood on either side of her, questioning her. It was obvious she felt intimidated and trapped.

"She said they were staying with her while the parents were out of town. It doesn't look like she had any idea. We'll question her, but I doubt there's anything she could tell us."

"I wouldn't want those kids in my house knowing what they did."

The two turned their attention to the woman. "I don't think that will be an issue." The officers questioning her had stepped away and she marched over to the boys, who were being told to stand next to a police officer.

"What is wrong with you two?! Huh? I was worried about you two, thinking you were kidnapped. And here I find out what you were gonna do to those two poor kids over there! I'm absolutely disgusted in you two!"

Spinning away from her nephews, the woman cautiously approached Dean. Alice glanced up from where she sat on the ground, still gripping her children tightly.

The woman brushed some hair out of her face. "I just wanted to apologize. I had no idea my neph-those boys are capable of something like that. Are they okay?" She asked, referring to Cara and Noah.

"No. But they will be," Alice said, wishing the woman would just go away. By her standing there apologizing, that made Alice realize how serious the situation truly was.

"You're not-you're not gonna press charges are you?"

"And if I did?" Alice snapped. However, she quickly composed herself and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. No. I don't need a reminder of this. And they're just kids."

The woman nodded. Neither Dean or Alice could read her reaction to that. "Once again, I'm terribly sorry." Turning away, she walked back over the the police officers standing around Tyler and Jason.

"Auntie Becca, when are we gonna go home?"

Refusing to look at them, Becca turned her attention to the police. "I don't want to sleep knowing these two are just down the hallway from me."

"M'am, what would you like us to do?"

"Arrest them. Or at least take them to the station. Get in touch with my sister and try and figure out what the hell is going on with her kids. But I don't want them in my house."

The boys were escorted out of the clearing by two of the cops. The aunt followed a few paces behind.

The two remaining officers migrated over to the family. "We have an ambulance back by the park, if you think they need to be checked out."

"Yes, I'd prefer that, thank you," Alice said, still staring at the top of Cara and Noah's heads.

"Yes m'am."

"Is there anything else you need officers?"

The two shook their heads. "We got your statements. That should be all for now. Here's my card, in case we need to get in contact with you. After they get checked out, they should be good to go." Dean took the card from the female officer who he had talked to. The card indicated her name was Officer Adriana Gomez.

Dean nodded to Officer Gomez, deciding she and the others weren't too bad for cops.

"Well if that's all, we can back if you'd like," Officer Gomez suggested.

"Come on babies," Alice encouraged. She stood up and helped the two stand. She collected Noah in her arms and Dean was about to do the same for Cara when the little girl suddenly turned on her heel and ran back towards the pond.

"CARA!" Alice screamed after her daughter, as the girl jumped from the ledge and disappeared below the dark water. The algae covered surface rippled in uneven patterns.

Without thinking, Dean dove into the water after Cara. By the time he reached the surface, Cara was only a couple feet away, treading water and coughing extra liquid from her lungs.

Quickly grabbing her, Dean began to swim for the shore. "What the hell were you thinking?" Dean demanded as Cara wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I wasn't gonna let them make me be scared," Cara responded matter of factly.

That stunned Dean. He checked to make sure he was actually talking to a six year old. He was.

"Cara why would you do that!" Alice screamed, once Dean and Cara made it back to shore. Alice gripped Cara, getting soaked.

"Sorry Mommy. I had to do it."

"The ambulance has some blankets and towels," Officer Gomez offered to Dean, not quite sure what to make of the soaking wet girl.

"Should I jump in too?" Noah asked his older sister.

"No, I did it for the both of us," Cara said as Alice bent down to pick her up. Dean did the same with Noah and they followed the remaining two police officers out of the clearing. The parents shared a meaningful look over the heads of their children.

Gripping their children tight, the parents quickly fled from the dark body of water. It was so dark there wasn't visibility a foot below the surface. Someone could so easily disappear below the surface and never be seen again, if no one was looking for them.

When Cara disappeared below the water, Alice believed some transference had occurred. She originally believed she was being punished for even attempting to drown herself, but then wondered that because she hadn't succeeded, her daughter would have to carry the burden of the uncompleted task.

Dean stared at the top of his son's dark head. The ends of his hair were curling as they dried. Noah had his head rested against the crook of Dean's arms. It was crazy to think this was the age Dean had been when he carried Sammy out of their burning home. Dean couldn't believe he had been the size of the boy in his arm's when had he done that. Noah was basically just a baby. But at the same time, Noah had tried to save his sister even after he had been held underwater.

Once they reached the park, each child was given an industrial sized towel and Noah was the first to insist he wanted to walk. Cara quickly copied her brother, wishing she had asked to walk first, since she was older. But she made sure she was the first to climb up onto the back of the ambulance. Noah was quick to follow. After that, the paramedics began to check the children over for injuries.

Cara focused on a rip at the edge of her dress while one of the paramedics checked her wrist where the boy had grabbed it. She remembered all the times Mommy had said to watch out for strangers. But strangers were adults. She didn't think kids could be strangers. She knew there were bad people in the world-her mother had told her that many times-but how could someone who was her age be bad? Not the kind of bad like talking in class when you shouldn't be, but like the kind of bad where you wanted to hurt someone. Her mind whirred as she realized maybe anyone could be bad, not just grownups. She didn't want to be scared, but she was. She was hoping jumping in the water would somehow make everything okay.

Feeling his wet hair, Noah thought about how he couldn't swim-he told them that-so why would those boys try to throw him in the water? Mommy always said to never go near open water without her. He had always followed that rule. Why didn't those boys listen to him? He said he couldn't swim but they didn't care. Noah didn't think they were going near water. He thought they were going to see deer. But Noah wasn't sure why those boys lied. They were bullies, but to Noah, there was something more sinister about them he couldn't describe. He had never seen someone want to hurt him like that. He didn't think it was possible for people like that to exist.

"Mommy?" Noah asked.

"Yes baby?" She asked, she placed a hand on his cheek. She felt like she had to keep physical contact with both of them at all times, or else they would disappear again.

"Can I take swim lessons?"

Alice blanched. "Why do you want to take swim lessons?"

"So the next time someone tries to do that to me, I'll be able to swim."

She frowned in incredulity. "But no one is ever going to do that again."

"Oh," he said. She watched him try to understand how she knew that.

That broke her heart.

But how did she explain to a six and four year old that things like that didn't happen to everyone when it happened to them?

"I won't let it happen again."

"But you already let it happen," Noah responded. He didn't say it to wound her or to sound cynical-he was only four- but merely as an observation, but he didn't know the sharp barb that pierced through Alice's thorax.

"Yeah." Alice dropped her hand from Noah's face and quickly scuttled away. She found herself pressed against a tree facing away from the ambulance. Covering her mouth, she tried to hold back a sob that escaped from her chest.

Dean was suddenly there in her vision, enveloping her in a hug.

"You should go back to the kids. I don't want them to be alone right now."

"Allie, they're surrounded by cops and paramedics. They'll be fine for a few minutes."

"Just 'a few minutes' of me not watching them was enough. How could we let this happen? They were right in front of us and then they were just gone."

If Allie felt bad, then Dean-who had been trained to observe minute details and pay attention to things other people wouldn't think of-was absolutely destroying himself. He could hear a creaky stair step from two floors above but couldn't notice his two kids go missing before his eyes? _That's_ why he thought it was something supernatural, not humans. Especially not some _Children of the Corn_ psychopaths.

"Shit happens, Allie." Dean had seen all kinds.

"Not to my kids. Nothing bad was supposed to happen to us." Alice had a glazed over look in her eyes. "All they know is that I wasn't there to protect them. They know they can't rely on me." She felt herself being pulled back into the funk of her postpartum depression. It was something she hadn't dealt with in years, but the feeling hit her like a freight train.

Dean shook her slightly. "No. All they know is that some stupid kids tried to hurt them. How could you even believe they blame you?"

"Cause I blame me," Alice whispered, softer than a ghost.

"Of course you do. I do too. We're parents. It's natural for us to blame ourselves for every little thing that goes wrong in our kids lives."

Alice flicked her eyes to him. "You think them almost drowning is a little thing?"

Dean shook his head not even bothering to answer. She knew what he meant.

"We can only do better next time." It was amazing Dean could spew such comforting words to Alice when all he could do to himself was constantly flagellate how he couldn't protect his own kids. Why would Alice think anything was wrong with not watching her kids for a few moments?

She had grown up in a small town. She had lived in Chicago, but the nice part. And now she lived in an upper middle class town that was literally the perfect place to raise a family. How could she in a million years think that any of her mantras of stranger danger to Cara and Noah would even be a possibility? She was right. Things like that didn't happen to normal families.

But she had no idea they weren't normal. Dean knew even an average person could be a monster underneath the surface. He'd seen monsters in all shapes and sizes, from demons possessing teenagers to frail old women that could hardly walk. _He_ knew to be skeptical of everyone, suspect everyone.

And he hadn't done that.

"If we realized just a few minutes later…"

Dean shook the image out of his head. "Well, we didn't. We found them. They're safe."

She nodded. "You're right. They're safe." She wiped her eyes. "And the last thing they need is to see me like this." She took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's go get our babies."

* * *

"But why did you go with them? I've told you countless times not to go with strangers," Alice demanded. She was kneeling on the floor in front of the couch where Cara and Noah sat, pleading at them to comprehend the situation with the lens of an adult, of a parent. But she knew they couldn't do that; that was supposed to be her job.

"You said strangers were grownups," Noah said.

Alice wrung her hands together in frustration. Her anxiety of her children almost drowning was now taking the form of grilling them on _why_ they went with them. Her intention wasn't to make them so scared that they never wanted to leave her side, but there was obviously _something_ flawed in the way she taught them. "You know better. And Cara, why didn't you look out for Noah? I've told you countless times to watch out for Noah."

Dean, who was sitting on the coffee table, suddenly sprung up. "No. Nope. Alice, kitchen please?"

Looking at him as if he had grown two heads, Alice grudgingly followed him into the next room. "What?" she signaled.

Dean motioned towards the other room. "Don't tell Cara to watch out for Noah."

Alice squinted her eyes. "What? Why not?"

Dean sputtered. "Because…"

The mother crossed her arms. "She's his older sister. Of course she should look out for him."

Reaching forward, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Look, as an older sibling who was told to watch out for his younger sibling his entire life, please don't tell Cara that."

Still skeptical, Alice stepped back. "You don't think Cara should have to watch out for Noah? I tell Noah the same thing, you know."

"It's great that they look out for each other, but be careful. Because if you keep telling Cara that, she'll base her entire worth off how well Noah turns out, how well she looked after him. She's only a kid, Al. She doesn't need that kind of pressure on her. But if you put that kind of pressure on her, it's something that will become ingrained in her that she won't be able to escape." There was nothing wrong with looking out for family, but it only took Dean a second for him to see himself in his daughter that he knew there was something seriously wrong with that.

Stunned, Alice gaped at him. "Why do I have a feeling you're not talking about Cara?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Quickly clamming up, Dean walked out of the room back into the living, leaving Alice standing there to try and make sense of what just happened.

"Dean."

"I'm not talking about that, Alice."

"We should-"

"Talk about what?" Cara asked.

Moving to sit on the couch, Dean put Noah on his lap and looped an arm around Cara. "Nothing, sweetheart."

Cara gave him the side eye but let the issue drop.

"Daddy, do you know how to swim?" Noah asked. Glad the boy couldn't see his face, a look of anguish scratched itself into his features. Dean wished Noah would stop talking about water and swimming. He knew he and Alice didn't need any reminders.

"Yeah, I can."

"And Cara can swim. I guess Mommy and I are the only ones that can't."

Dean's eyes swung to Alice. "You can't swim?" He didn't know why that struck him as odd.

She shrugged nervously. "Never had a reason to learn. Swimming lessons wasn't really at the top of my parent's to-do list."

"You know, you never talk about Grandma and Grandpa," Cara noted, looking at her mother.

"I told you. They live far away and I haven't talked to them in a long time," Alice said, believing that was an effective end to the conversation. It usually worked.

"Aunt Janny said your parents don't like us."

"What?" Feeling her blood boiling, Alice couldn't believe Jan would tell Cara that. Why would she think that was an okay thing to tell a six year old? That the entire reason Alice couldn't live with her parents or even talk to them were sitting on the couch in front of her? "When did she tell you that?"

Cara shrugged. "I was listening to her conversation on the phone once. That was all I heard before Aunt Janny found me and yelled at me for listening when I shouldn't have been."

"Why did you eavesdrop?"

Cara shrugged.

"Cara Clementine. You brought it up."

Looking out from beneath her eyelashes, Cara shrugged. "I just wanted to meet my Grandma and Grandpa. Everyone else at school has some."

Alice paused.

Noah turned looked at Cara. "People don't think we have a Daddy."

Cara gasped for a minute. "Who told you that?"

"At pre-school. They don't believe me."

"Me either," Cara said. "No one's ever seen Daddy so they don't think we have one."

Dean very quickly had to slide Noah off his lap and stand up. A child's honesty and transparency was usually a refreshing burst of innocence, but now it just caused an ache in their parents' chests.

"Why do you listen to them? You know you have a dad," Alice insisted. But how could she convince two school aged children to ignore their peers?

"But everyone says so," Noah argued.

"That doesn't make it true," Alice responded. Suddenly tired, she motioned for them to leave the room. "Why don't you guys go watch TV for awhile?"

Thrilled by the prospect, the kids scurried out of the room, leaving their parents to pick up the confusion and hurt they left behind.

"You know they don't mean it," Alice said, coming behind Dean and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Sounds like something I said to you earlier."

Alice smirked, pressing her face into his shoulder blade. She wound her arms around him. "I guess I give good advice."

"Do you think I'm a terrible father?"

"No. I don't."

Dean spun around and separated himself from Alice. "Why not? By every definition I'm a crappy father. I don't pay child support. I'm not involved in their lives. I stop by every few months like that's okay-"

"I don't want your money, Dean. Your kids don't want your money. And you know if Jan didn't help me out, they wouldn't be able to live like this. And as for stopping by every few months, we've talked about this: you do what you can, you come when you can. Dean, I've never thought anything less of you for that. Neither have your children."

 _Maybe you should._

"I just wish I could do more," he admitted. God, for the past twenty four hours he'd been feeling like such a wuss. Everything felt incredibly fragile right now. And so much had happened that he hadn't had much time to process it all. But it seemed like now, the weight of everything was beginning to crush him.

"You're a good father, Dean. You're a good man. I mean, you _found_ me, Dean." Alice was referring to him tracking her down in Chicago.

"Yeah, well you were too good to let go."

"You were too," Alice admitted quietly.

The two stared at each other for a moment, feeling a strong magnetic pull that made their feet move, without permission from the mind, until their bodies smacked into one another.

"They're just in the other room," Alice whispered, as Dean leaned in towards her neck.

He ignored her.

She gently pushed him back. "Not right now. When they go to sleep," Alice assured.

Feeling the pent up stress that he hadn't been able to release, Dean slowly drew back and nodded slowly. He removed his hands from Alice and looked out the window. The sun was finally starting to set and the rays were cutting straight into the room. And Dean realized then he hadn't slept in over twenty four hours.

"I think I need to sleep," he admitted suddenly.

She blinked, not expecting him to comment that. "When was the last time you slept? I know it's been a stressful couple days for you…"

Dean shrugged. "Since before Sam left."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You haven't slept in over a day?"

"I drove all night to get here."

She made a _tsk-_ sound and motioned towards the stairs. "Well, go to bed. You need sleep."

Dean flirted with the idea but decided he should be there for his kids. Although they seem to have bounced back from the earlier trauma, he wanted to make sure they would be okay. However, he had forgotten how resilient kids could be. But, after the comment made from his kids that most people didn't think they had a father, he felt as though he needed to prove to all those people that Cara and Noah did have a father.

But was he a father?

He had walked out the door while Cara and Noah begged for him to stay a little longer.

Why was that any different that John walking out on Dean?

It was different because Dean was an adult and didn't need his father to hold his hand-at least he tried to convince himself of that. And he didn't want Cara and Noah to end up like him. That was one of the worst things he could imagine for his kids. As much as he enjoyed hunting, it was something that absolutely had to be kept separate from Alice and their kids.

"They'll be here in the morning, Dean," Alice assured, contracting the hysteria she was in earlier, following the traumatic event at the park. The entire family has a whole had gone through phases where one or two were manic and the others were the calm anchors.

Now it was Dean's turn to be manic.

"I can't sleep, though."

Alice frowned. "Why not? You just said you needed to."

Dean sighed into her hand placed on the side of his face. "I keep thinking about Sammy."

"That's understandable."

"I mean...there's a part of me that's mad at him for leaving, but there's another part that understands why he did it. I basically live two lives, so I have no right to judge him." He looked up at her. "And I regret not going after him. I almost did. So now Sammy thinks I chose him over my father. And the whole thing is just a mess. I don't know what to do.

"He's just a kid, Al," Dean whispered brokenly.

Alice held back a sniffle. "Maybe he's a kid. But Dean, you remember how fast we went from kids to adults? We adapted. He's smart. And if he's anything like his big brother, he'll be fine."

Alice hadn't seen Sammy since he was in middle school, and Dean grimaced at what was supposed to be a compliment. Sammy would be fine due to every way he was _different_ from Dean.

"Do you ever regret it?" Dean suddenly asked.

"Regret what?"

"What we were? Isn't there a part of you that wishes you'd graduated from high school and went to some fancy brick ivy league?" Dean realized Sammy was living the life Alice was supposed to live. He wondered if she realized that too.

She shrugged. "Honestly, part of me didn't even _want_ to go to college. Yeah, it meant I would be able to get away from my parents, but not going meant I would spite them. I guess getting pregnant was the best way to do that." Trying to tune back her frustration, Alice refocused on the question. "No. I don't regret it now." She had for awhile. "You shouldn't, either."

"I'm trying."

Alice leaned forward and gently kissed Dean. "Go to bed. I mean it. I'll be up there as soon as I can."

Before retiring to Alice's room, Dean kissed Cara and Noah on the heads and hugged them tightly, saying he would see them in the morning, assuring he would be there.

Once in Alice's room, Dean shut the door behind him and sat down on the bed, his heavy boots still on his feet, leather jacket on as well. Clasped in his hands was his cell phone. He hardly ever hesitated, ever thought twice about making a call. But now, he sat here with his thumb up his ass like he was waiting for a sign from God.

Dialing the familiar number, Dean held the phone to his ear. He took a few deep breaths.

It rang a few times.

" _I'm sorry, the number you dialed has been disconnected."_

He figured Sammy would've ditched his old phone, a symbolic way he was cutting himself off from his old life. But there was a hopeful part of Dean that Sammy wouldn't think it was worth the effort, as there would be no one who would bother to call him, or at least wouldn't have ditched it so soon.

The automated voice finished speaking and the monotonous, frustrating sound of the dial tone started to repeat itself in Dean's ear.

Still, he didn't hang up the phone.

"You'll never get this message, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I get it, Sammy, I do. This isn't the life you saw for yourself. Maybe I could've changed your mind, maybe not. Guess it doesn't really matter at this point. You're probably not even at Stanford yet and...I just want you to know I'm proud of you."

Flipping the phone shut, Dean clenched his jaw and held it to his forehead. He contemplated calling his father, but Dean didn't know what he would say. He didn't have the kind of energy needed to talk to John Winchester right now.

Kicking off his shoes and jacket, Dean laid on top of the covers, sure to leave the other side of the bed open for Alice. He placed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling until it hurt.

* * *

Slipping into a black nightgown, Alice slowly climbed into her side of the bed. She didn't pull back the covers for fear Dean would wake up.

Once her head hit the pillow, she let out a deep sigh. Cara and Noah were finally asleep, but all she could see was a teenage version of herself standing in an icy river while she watched her kids as the ages they were tumbling after her into the river.

The parallels were too close for Alice's comfort.

Trying to comfort herself, Alice drifted off into an exhausted, but fitful sleep.

While she dreamed of water, Dean dreamed of fire.

* * *

The door creaked open as the black shadow lengthened across the room, towards the edge of the bed. The figure slowly crept forward until it stood right in front of the supine form.

There was a gasp as the figure in the bed opened their eyes and noticed something blocking the nightlight in the corner of the room.

Cara shot up, nearly screaming, before realizing the dark figure was Noah.

"Noah you scared me!" Cara whispered angrily.

"Did I wake you up?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. I wasn't sleeping."

"Why not?"

Cara shrugged.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

She slowly nodded.

"Me too. I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Why didn't you go to Mommy and Daddy's room then?" The older sister asked. She rubbed her eyes as Noah's form started to brighten as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

He shrugged.

Cara studied her brother and sighed before scooting over. "Okay." She pulled the covers back as he climbed into bed beside her.

"Did you dream about the water?" Cara asked softly.

"Yeah."

"I see their faces when I close my eyes," she whispered. Even when she stared at the ceiling in the dark, she could still see them.

"I don't want to see that," Noah said.

"I don't either."

"I see the water. It was green and dirty. Not blue like water's supposed to be," Noah shared.

"Water's not blue; it's clear."

"Huh?" Noah turned his head towards Cara's.

"I said water's clear. It's not blue."

"Oh. But it looks blue."

"The sky makes it look blue."

"Why?"

Cara shrugged. "Cause the sky reflects on the water."

"Oh okay. But why is the sky blue?"

"Cause the sun makes it blue."

"But the sun's yellow."

"I don't know," Cara said.

"Why not?"

"Cause I don't."

"Oh."

They laid in silence for a few moments, breathing softly.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked.

"I don't know," Cara responded. "Are you?"

"Dunno."

They were silent again.

"What were they gonna do to us?" Noah usually asked a lot of questions, and normally, it bothered Cara, but right now, it didn't.

"They were gonna hurt us," Cara said. She herself didn't completely understand it either.

"Why? We didn't do anything to them."

"They were bad people, I guess."

"I feel bad for them."

"Why?"

Noah didn't respond. He didn't really know why he felt bad for them. He just knew he did. And maybe he shouldn't because they weren't nice and they hurt him. But he did anyways.

"I'm not gonna feel bad for them," Cara said. "I don't wanna be afraid of them. That's why I jumped in the water. Cause they didn't hurt me more than I hurt myself."

"Is swimming scary?"

"It was when I was learning. It's not scary anymore. I feel like I'm flying when I'm floating."

"I wanna fly."

"Maybe Daddy can teach you."

"Why doesn't Mommy know how to swim?"

"I don't know."

"What if someone tried to hurt her with water too?"

Cara scoffed at that. "No. No one hurt Mommy. She just doesn't like water."

"But why not? Doesn't she wanna fly too?"

"I don't know, Noah. Okay?"

"I'm gonna ask her."

Before he could move out of the bed, Cara grabbed his wrist. "They're sleeping."

"Me and you weren't sleeping," he reasoned.

"So? They're tired. Let them sleep."

"But I wanna know why," Noah pouted.

"Ask her in the morning."

"What if I don't remember in the morning?"

"I'll remind you."

"Thanks."

Cara was finally starting to doze off when Noah said her name.

"What?"

"Is kindergarten scary?"

"No."

"Why don't you like it?"

"Cause."

"Cara?"

"What Noah?" she muttered into the pillow.

"I'm scared for kindergarten."

"Why? I thought you were excited."

"Cause you don't like it. What if I don't like it?"

"Just cause I don't like it doesn't mean you won't. And cause you have fun at preschool so you'll have fun at kindergarten. You don't even go for another year. Why are you even worrying about it?"

"I don't know."

"We don't know a lot of things," Cara said. She thought about how they just responded 'I don't know' to one another when they didn't know the answer to a question the other had. There seemed to be a lot of questions she couldn't answer, same with Noah.

"I know stuff," Noah rebutted, slightly offended. "I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were stupid."

"Well _you're_ stupid."

"I didn't say you were stupid!" Cara repeated, aggravated. She wanted to shove Noah out of her bed. "Why don't you go sleep in your own bed if you think I'm stupid?"

"Fine! Maybe I will!" Noah wriggled out of Cara's bed and marched towards the door.

"Don't slam my door!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" He didn't slam her door. He left it wide open, which he knew would irritate Cara even more than if he slammed it.

Annoyed, Cara shut her eyes and tried to ignore the open door. She heard a creak in the hallway and her eyes flew open, staring into the black hallway.

"Stupid," she muttered, while she quickly climbed out of bed and ran towards the door to close it. Just as she was about to, she looked back in her empty room and ran out of it, down the hallway to another door.

Stepping into the new room, Cara walked quickly towards the bed and climbed into it, disturbing it's occupant.

"Ow! Cara!"

She didn't respond as she burrowed herself under the blue blankets on Noah's bet. Huffing, Noah tried to scoot away from Cara, tugging on the blanket's she'd wrapped herself in. "Gimme my blankets back!"

"Why don't you share?" She rebuffed.

"Why don't you go sleep in your own bed?"

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

Noah crossed his arms. "What do you want?" He demanded, still angry at his sister. He pulled the blankets completely off her and grabbed the pillow when she went to lay her head on it.

"You're not stupid," Cara finally relented.

"Say you're sorry."

"Fine. I'm sorry."

"You don't sound sorry. Say it again."

"How about I hit you instead?" Cara held up her palm.

Noah flinched a bit. "I'll tell."

"I'll tell them you called me stupid ," Cara retorted.

"You called _me_ stupid!"

"I did _not,_ Noah!"

"Did too!"

"I'm not playing this game!"

"Why don't you just leave me alone then," Noah muttered. He wrapped all his blankets around himself and turned around, back facing Cara.

She sighed. "Noah."

He didn't respond.

"Noah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

He shifted slightly but didn't say anything.

"You're not stupid. I was just scared."

"Thought you weren't scared," Noah mumbled grumpily.

"I don't wanna be. But I am." Cara pushed her hair behind her ears.

"I'm sorry you're scared."

"Me too."

Noah slowly unwound himself from the puff of blankets and pillows. He handed Cara a pillow and gave her half the covers "Here."

"Thanks," she said.

Noah yawned. "I'm tired."

"Me too." Cara snuggled deeper under the covers. "Goodnight, Noah."

"Night, Cara."

With their backs pressed against each other, the siblings both fell asleep quickly and easily. They had no dreams after that, sleeping peacefully and soundly.

* * *

Groggily blinking, Dean took a minute to orient himself. He was in a bed that was far more comfortable than any motel room, and was staring up at a wall that wasn't covered in peeling wallpaper.

Remembering the slew of events that had happened in the last few days, Dean became aware of Alice pressed up against him as she slept.

Turning his head towards the clock, Dean saw it was just after six in the morning.

Carefully climbing out of bed, he made sure not to disturb the weight distribution. Alice curled into a ball when Dean left, but didn't react other than that.

Tiptoeing down the dark hallway, Dean quietly crept to Cara's room. It was typical of a little girl. The walls were pink and white bows were stenciled onto the walls. Her bedspread had cherries on it and there was a fuzzy white rug on the ground. Dean thought it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

However, when Dean's vision swept over the cherry patterned bedspread, he noted how the bed was empty, the blanket scrunched up at the foot of the bead.

Mind spinning, Dean stumbled backwards out of the room and ran towards the door further down the hall.

Edging the door open into the blue room, Dean's racing heart slowed when he saw two heads sticking out from underneath the navy blue comforter.

Walking over to the bed, Dean smiled at how Cara and Noah slept. Noah's face was scrunched up against the wall and Cara was hugging a pillow to her chest. Their hair was messy, splayed across their faces, and he could hear the quiet sounds of their breathing.

They looked peaceful.

Dean thought back to when they were little babies. He didn't think he would ever see the day when they would be walking and talking, but now, here they were. They were four and six, growing so fast. Something terrible had happened to them, but they were resilient, partially because they were children, but Dean thought it mostly had to do with the fact they were Mercers and Winchesters. Those kids had some tough blood in them.

He lost track of how long he was watching them for, but was jarred out of his reverie by Alice entering the room.

She looked much better than yesterday. She was calmer. She also looked sexy as hell. The black lacy nightgown she wore caused Dean to lose his breath for a minute. Her bedhead was about the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"God I wish I could wake up to you everyday," he whispered, having to brace himself against a dark mahogany dresser resting against the wall.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. He placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Aren't they the cutest things ever?" Alice asked softly head turned, smiling at Cara and Noah, who were still deeply sleeping.

"Yeah, they are." Dean grabbed Alice's hand, turning his attention back to her. "I need you to come with me right now," he whispered urgently in her head.

She frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"

He tugged her out of the room and closed Noah's door shut. He didn't respond until they were in her room, with the door closed as well.

Dean pressed her up against the door and slid one of the straps off her shoulder. "What's wrong is you in this nightgown is driving me crazy."

Alice's eyelids grew heavy with lust. "Really? How crazy?"

"Like I can't think straight when I'm around you. It makes me want to to all sorts of things to you." He ran a hand through her hair, messing it up even more than it already was.

"What sorts of things?" Alice asked seductively. She gave him a playful push and nudged him back until he fell onto the bed. She crawled on top of him.

She gasped when Dean grabbed her suddenly and rolled her over, so he was leaning over her. "All sorts of things," he whispered into her ear.

"Maybe you should show me," she teased with a giggle.

"Don't tempt me, Mercer."

"Bring it, Winchester."

The two fell into a field of fire and ice.

* * *

Everyone woke up around noon that day. Since Alice had called off, she was picking up a shift for someone that covered for her yesterday morning. So at three o'clock, she grudgingly went off to work and left Dean alone with Cara and Noah.

At the mother's request and his own peace of mind, Dean kept the kids close by. The two were busy playing on the swing set in the backyard. Even though there was a six and a half foot tall fence around the perimeter of the yard, Dean still found himself sitting on a wicker lawn chair, watching over them.

Occasionally one of them would yell over "Daddy, Daddy, watch me!" and Dean would nod and wave, telling them they did a good job. Little did they know most of his attention was focused on his surroundings. This neighborhood was quiet, not a place anyone would expect anything bad to happen. However, like this town, bad things could happen. Those boys that almost drowned his kids no doubt came from a neighborhood similar to this one.

And while Dean wasn't expecting anything supernatural to occur, he was still on edge. They weren't expecting any visitors, so when someone began banging on the gate in the side of the fence, Dean jumped up and ran towards it.

Both Cara and Noah froze. Cara stood on top of the play set, about to go down the slide while Noah was hanging upside down from the monkey bars.

"Stay there!" Dean yelled back when Cara slid down the slide and Noah jumped off the monkey bars. They stopped at once and tried to get a good look at who was knocking on the gate.

Dean unlatched the gate and revealed a disturbing collection of people. There were two police officers, including Officer Gomez, as well as a blonde woman who Dean realized was Paula Barnes, the neighbor from across the street.

Paula frowned and peered into the backyard. "Is Alice here?"

"She's at work," Dean supplied.

The blonde woman sized him up. "Right. And you are…"

"I'm Dean Winchester. Cara and Noah's father."

Paula's eyes lit up. "Ah right! I've heard of you, never actually met you until now. Anyways, I saw these police officers banging on your front door. They said you weren't answering the phone. I'm Paula Barnes, from across the street, by the way."

Dean shook the woman's hand, taking an immediate dislike to her. "Officers," he said, removing his attention from the blonde woman.

"Sir, do you mind if we talk for a moment," Officer Gomez asked.

He nodded. "Sure." Quickly turning, he allowed the two officers into the backyard. Paula followed behind them. Dean wasn't exactly sure why she was still there.

"Cara, Noah, go inside," Dean said. He walked towards the two and began to usher them inside.

"Why are the police here?" Cara asked.

"Don't worry about it," Dean assured. Once the two were inside, he held the sliding glass door open enough so they could hear him. "I better not catch you two trying to listen to what we're talking about." He slammed the door shut and returned to the officers, who were waiting calmly. On the other hand, Paula was busy, nosily inspecting the rows of hydrangeas Alice had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

"Penelope, thanks so much for letting me know the police were here. I can take it from here."

She smiled sharply. "It's Paula. And I'll stay if you don't mind. Someone needs to be here to tell Alice what happened."

About to retort angrily, one of the cops grabbed Paula by the shoulder. "M'am, this is none of your business. Go home." He shouldered her out of the backyard and slammed the gates shut.

Once Dean was alone with the two cops, he couldn't help but feel anxious. John had always taught him law enforcement did nothing but get in the way and make their job harder. But these cops weren't so bad. They hadn't arrested him or suspected anything or got in his way, because to them, he was just a civilian. Nothing more. Maybe things were better when they didn't get in each other's way.

"You may know Jason and Tyler Hanratty were in police custody last night as we tried to get ahold of their parents."

Dean nodded. "Yeah?"

Officer Gomez shifted. "The boys were dead this morning when we found them. They hung themselves."

"With what?"

"Their shoelaces." Even the officer seemed disturbed. "They were small enough that it would've worked-but that's not all."

"What?"

"The bodies are gone. We can't find them."

"How, exactly, do you lose two bodies of boys that killed themselves under your nose?"

Officer Gomez looked ashamed, but responded like she was talking to a reporter. "The Batavia Police Department has no comment. It's an unfortunate situation for all involved." The response sounded incredibly rehearsed.

Dean sighed. "I get that's what you're supposed to say, but off the record?"

Officer Gomez opened her mouth but was cut off by the other cop. "That's all we're at liberty to say. We wanted to inform your family before you heard it in the news."

"Wait. What kind of picture are they going to paint of these kids?" Dean asked, as the cops were about to excuse themselves from the backyard.

"I guess it depends on who is interviewed and what angles the newspapers decide to report from. However, we are required to release the information to the public. Since the boys were underage, the incident wouldn't have released their names. But, now that they're dead and their bodies are missing, we can release the names. The information will be objective, only the facts.

"Sir, we will do everything we can to protect you and your family's identity, but some reporters still may find out who you are and what happened. Like any town, people do gossip."

"We suggest saying you have no comment on the issue," Officer Gomez added.

"Yeah. Sure. But you'll keep us updated if you find the bodies?"

"Yes sir. I hope you have a nice day."

Once the cops left, Dean's mind began to whir. Maybe those boys were psychopaths and maybe that had killed themselves. That was one thing.

But the bodies going missing?

That was Dean's department.

* * *

 **Last Night**

* * *

There was a crater in the earth, like a comet had struck there. But instead of coming from the sky, the crater came from below. Something had torn away layers of rock and dirt and left a smoking gash in the grass.

The smoke didn't move according the wind or air. It moved with a purpose. It had a nucleus that could orchestrate intentional actions.

Slithering across the grass like a snake, the smoke stealthily moved towards the thin ankles of a gangly dog walker. The walker was a woman, probably in her mid thirties with wiry, frazzled blonde hair.

Just as the smoke was about to sneak up behind the woman, it paused, suspended as a column in air, the nucleus ultimately deciding against the woman.

That wasn't any fun.

Feeling the instinctive call to a nearby location, the smoke let itself be carried by the wind until it seeped through the window of a squat, cement building.

Once in the building, the smoke wafted over some industrial carpeting, around some cheaply made desks, behind a locked metal door, past some metal bars, into a jail cell.

The occupants of the jail cell were surprising. They were two blonde little boys with sweet sleeping faces, curled up onto the uncomfortable cots, thin blankets covering their shivering bodies.

However, the closer the smoke got, the more deceiving their appearances became. In both boys, there was a cold remorselessness. Their souls were black as the smoke.

It was quite a rare discovery.

But nevertheless, a very exciting one.

The smoke slipped into the darker soul, as the younger, more innocent looking boy inhaled deeply.

Blinking awake, Tyler Hanratty sat up in a jail cell. He threw the blanket off of himself and moved to the sink that in the corner of the space.

Looking into the mirror, Tyler slowly leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the reflection. He blinked once and his eyes became black.

"Can't keep a bitch down," the demon inside Tyler said to itself. "Sonja's back."

Sonja, now riding Tyler's skin, glanced around the jail cell, suddenly knowing everything about Tyler. He liked to torture animals, and then dissect their bodies. He was a bed wetter. A little darker than his brother, this little tyke had all the benchmarks of a serial murderer. Those boys were only a few short days in Hell away from becoming demons themselves.

Sonja shuffled through Tyler's most recent memories. The one that seemed most important was at the side of a pond where Tyler and his brother, Jason, tried to drown some kids. She liked this new vessel. He sure knew how to have fun.

In the memory, Sonja listened as a black haired little boy screamed for the girl, a girl named Cara.

 _Cara?_

Sonja frowned.

Confirming the demon's suspicions, the memory played and a familiar looking face was grabbing Tyler and Jason by the front's of their shirt.

"Well, I'm be damned," Sonja muttered delightfully, when she realized the face in the memory was none other than Dean Winchester. Someone was looking out for Sonja.

"Look how grown up you are," Sonja sang. "And look at you Cara, not a baby anymore. And there's Alice," she narrated as the memory continued as the mother appeared.

Smirking as the memory went on, Sonja suddenly frowned when she realized something.

Just like Cara, the black haired boy was being embraced by both Dean and Alice, like he was their child.

And he was.

Noah, was his name.

"When the hell did that happen?"

Sonja's own memory was conjured up from a long time ago, and she recalled being tied up in a dingy garage, while an older woman recited the Latin words that were seared onto her twisted soul.

"Janet Sutton. Of course," Sonja remarked. The woman had hidden the fact Alice was pregnant. Noah's age seemed to line up with how much time had passed.

"Lying bitch. You'll pay twice fold. But first-"

Sonja went and sat down on the bed. She started to unlace the shoes that were on the ground beside the bed. She wanted to do these boys a favor and send them downstairs a little early. They would thrive down there.

"Let's string 'em up."

Sonja threw the unlaced shoe at the sleeping boy.

"What are you trying to do, huh?" Jason growled, jolted awake. He paused when he saw who he thought was his brother tying his shoe lace strings together. "Tyler, what are you doing?"

"I don't wanna spend the rest of my life in a jail cell," Sonja responded, playing the part.

"We're not gonna spend the rest of our lives in a jail cell," Jason said.

Sonja scoffed. "Really? You think after what we were gonna do to those two they'd let us out?"

Jason looked unsure. "What are you gonna do?"

Sonja stood up on the cot and looped the shoelaces over the cage that was around the light.

"Oh," Jason realized. "But I don't wanna die."

"Do it, Jason."

"Fine," he muttered, after hardly any convincing.

 _That'll be a good body for Nero,_ Sonja thought as Jason followed the similar movements his brother had made.

Once the boys were in position, with the makeshift nooses around their necks, they nodded to each other from their respective cots.

 _This'll be fun._

In tandem, the two stepped off the beds.

* * *

 **I know the chapter was pretty dark, but I felt the last section especially deserved a little head's up.**

 **To recap, we finally get to see Cara and Noah a little more grown up, although the family can't seem to catch a break, especially Dean.**

 **In other news, Sonja's back, and pissed.**

 **Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed. Please review!**


	18. Rite of Passage

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Rite of Passage**

* * *

 **2002**

* * *

Noah always believed he became a man right before he turned six.

Alice was worried about her son when he entered kindergarten. Because he never had a constant male figure in his life, Alice always wondered if the other boys would think he was too weak or too girlish. She knew nowadays the trendy way to parent was all about letting kids "embrace who they are." But that doesn't change the fact kids are still cruel. Aunt Jan said "kids are kids", but Alice knew from experience how mean they could really be.

In fourth grade, her body started to change while all the other girls were still as flat as boards. Of course, her body was in some strange, in between state where she just looked round. The boys and girls alike called her fat and other horrible names. On a couple occasions, boys would pull down her skirt and snap her bra straps. The girls would point out the acne starting to form on her face.

So yes, maybe it was horrible for Alice to force her son into gendered stereotypes, but in the long run, it would be better. She sometimes wondered if she were trying to heal herself through her son and daughter being popular and not picked on.

Alice asked Brett Barnes from across the street to let Noah on the peewee football team he coached. Although the kids on the team were seven to nine, Alice hoped that would put Noah into a more acceptable social standing.

So Brett Barnes—who had two sons slightly older than Cara and Noah—mentored Noah. The man was physically flawless—buzzed hair, a constant five o'clock shadow, and a penchant for flannels and well-fitting jeans. Brett spent the weekends throwing a football with his son, home improvement projects, and helping his Irish wife, Paula, cook Sunday dinners that they had after the 10 AM Catholic service at St. Patrick's.

Noah spent all day Saturday over at the Barnes'. She would occasionally see them throwing a football, the sons Grayson and Mitchell wrestling with Noah. Cara would sometimes walk by the window and comment that rolling outside was not her idea of fun.

It was on a particular Saturday in mid-October that was especially jarring.

Around six o'clock, Noah came back from across the street when Alice called him for dinner. He was jumping around and shouting about how excited he was that he mastered a side tackle.

Cara was in the living room reading a book, and Alice was upstairs in her room, changing shirts after some soapy water splashed as a result of putting dishes in the sink too quickly.

When an exuberant Noah made his way into the living room, Cara sighed, rolled her eyes and gave him a few seconds to calm down before she snapped her book shut and climbed down from the tall sofa. "Would you be quiet? I'm trying to read?" Maybe her words were proper, but her tone was snobby.

"No!" he yelled excitedly, attempting to do a spin kick. Noah thought he looked quite like a black belt in karate. Cara thought he looked like an annoying pest.

"Go. Away," she deadpanned, stepping closer to Noah. She carefully set the book down on the coffee table.

He grinned at her. "No thanks Care _-uh._ Go read your stupid book somewhere else."

The young girl bristled at the childish name. Ever since Noah started playing football, he'd become much meaner to her, Cara noted. "I was here first, Noah! Don't make me get Mom!"

He lost a little bravado but soldiered on. "Mom doesn't care what you think, Cara. No one does!" Her mouth pressed into a thin line, but didn't make a retort.

Adrenaline rocking through his veins, Noah stepped closer to his sister. She still had a couple inches on him. He stared at the book. "You know who likes to read? Stupid people! You're stupid! Girls are stupid!"

"No! YOU ARE!" She screamed back in a shrill voice. It punctured Alice's ears, who was sorting through some folded laundry. The mother shook her head in annoyance, hoping whatever argument the two were having would blow over.

Downstairs, Noah began to dance around the coffee table. "'Boys go to college to get more knowledge, girls to go Jupiter to get more stupider!'"

Cara wanted to pull her hair out. She just wished she would go away!

"Really? _You're_ stupider! You think running around outside like an animal is fun!"

Noah was still grinning, unfazed by the comments his sister was slinging at him. That only served to infuriate her further; she couldn't get a reaction out of him. "At least I'm not a loser with no friends!"

"You don't know anything Noah!" Cara screeched, feeling something inside her snap like a rubber band. Alice had always been worried about Noah—she didn't think she should've worried about Cara more than her brother.

"Only losers read books, Care- _uh!"_

The comment itself wasn't that bad, but the fact Noah used that stupid nickname, coupled with the insinuation Cara was stupid and had no friends, and the jab at reading books, the young girl had enough.

She darted around the coffee table and lunged at Noah, shoved him in the shoulders. "I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!"

He fell back, and landed, elbows catching him on the cushion of the couch. Now _he_ was mad. Getting up, he did what he was taught to do in football, when someone pushed him.

He pushed back, harder.

Teeth bared, Noah shoved his sister forcefully. She shrieked as she hurtled back into the coffee table, face catching the sharp glass corner. Her upper lip was ripped open, a front tooth knocked out—her first tooth lost—and a nasty bruise over her right eyebrow to form in a few hours.

As she hit the floor, Noah stared at her in shock, especially when she began to wail bloody murder. In football, no one started crying like that when they were tackled.

Cara's wails were incoherent, but zeroed the focus of her mother. Alice immediately dropped the shirt in her hands. She recognized those piercing cries: the kind that meant something was terribly wrong; someone was hurt. She bolted down the stairs, yelling both of her children's names, catching herself on the banister when Alice looked over the railing and saw Cara huddled on the ground, blood on the carpet.

When Alice reached Cara, she scooped her daughter up and put Cara's face in her hands. Horrified at the amount of blood, the mother lost it, momentarily forgetting all her training as a nurse's aid. "What happened? Cara, what happened!?"

The girl, covering her mouth with one hand pointed a finger at Noah, frozen a few feet away. "He pushed me, Mommy!"

Alice turned to ask her son, but by the look on his face, she didn't have to.

Picking Cara up, Alice dashed into the kitchen and grabbed a few dish rags, pressing them to her daughter's face. Not sure what she needed, Alice went and grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer and sat Cara down on the counter to examine.

Cara reluctantly removed her hand when told to do so. Alice gasped when she saw Cara's upper lip was split open, evenly down the middle. She also noticed a tooth was missing. _That's going to need stitches._

After a few minutes of frantically running around the house, Alice grabbed Cara and put her in the car, telling the girl to hold the rags and bag of peas to her face. She was still crying, quieter now, but still incoherent.

"Get in the car, Noah!" Alice yelled. The boy did so without question.

Alice reversed into the Barnes' driveway, put the car in park, and yanked Noah out of the backseat by the arm. She marched him up to the door and rang the doorbell.

Paula answered the door, hair messily done up with a clip. The apron she wore was covered in flour. "Alice, what's wrong?"

The other mother shook her head. "Could you just please watch Noah? I have to take Cara to the hospital."

"Of course, Noah's welcome over any time. What happened to Cara?" Paula peeked her head out the door and tried to catch a glimpse at Cara in the back seat.

But Alice didn't answer, she was already hanging on the door of the driver's side. "Thank you, Paula!" She peeled out of the driveway and squealed down the street.

Still stunned by the suddenness of it all, Paula glanced down at Noah, his head hung. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Noah. I'm almost done making brownies. Would you like to lick the batter?" She guided him into the house and shut the door.

* * *

Cara was asleep in bed, drugged up on whatever they gave her. Alice sat at the kitchen counter, fingers dug through her hair. Noah was still over at the Barnes', and Paula had just called, offering to let Noah sleep over. Alice had said she'd be over to pick up Noah in a little while. He didn't get to spend the night with friends for sending his sister to the hospital.

It was moments like this when Alice wondered what the hell she was doing. She was only twenty-four and had no business having two kids who were already in elementary school. But she had to deal with it because they were her kids, which was difficult when she still very much felt like a child herself. Her friends were all older, but if she was friends with people her age, surely they would all be partying, maybe starting to settle down, just beginning to think about marriage and kids, some still living with their parents, no doubt.

This was the worst part of it all: being in it alone. If she'd known what it would be like when she was nineteen, she wondered if she would've prevented herself from making the same mistake again, which was a tricky subject to breach because she desperately loved both of her children. She also wondered how she could never hold any resentment towards Dean, none whatsoever, when she so often struggled and felt utterly hopeless at parenting.

Not knowing what to do, she called Dean Winchester, not because he would know what to do, but because he was such a steadying force.

As usual, he answered on the first ring. "Allie! It's been awhile! How is everything?" He sounded so excited and Alice guiltily thought how it only seemed she called him when things were bad.

She scratched at the corner of her eye. "I just got back from the ER with our daughter."

There was a whoosh of air on the other end of the line. "What happened?"

"Your son pushed Cara into the coffee table. She busted her lip open and needed stitches. One of her teeth got knocked out—thank God it was only a baby tooth. She has a nasty bruise on one side of her face. She's sleeping now."

"But she's okay?"

"As well as she can be."

"And you?"

"What?" Alice couldn't seem to comprehend what Dean was saying.

"How are _you?"_

"Irrelevant."

"Alice—"

"It doesn't matter right now! God Dean I don't know what to do!"

"Where's Noah?"

"I dropped him at a neighbor's house across the street. He' still there now. I'm going to get him soon. Part of me just wants to leave him there because I know if I see him right now, I'll just ending up screaming at him. I'm trying to cool off a little bit. But, I know I need to talk to him and explain to him what he did was wrong. It's just that this whole thing is my fault."

Dean sighed. He'd heard this before. "Don't blame yourself. You know it's not your fault. Kids, _especially_ siblings can be—"

" _No._ It actually is this time. I forced Noah to join a football team because I thought it would 'man him up.' How awful is it that I'm making our five-year-old do that? And now look how it ended, he pushed Cara and hurt her."

"Why did you want him to 'man up?'"

"I was worried he would get picked on in school because he doesn't have any constant father figure in his life—Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

He sounded slightly hurt. "No you're right. I'll be there tomorrow."

"You don't—"

The line went dead.

Alice gave herself a little while longer and explained to Noah why what he did was wrong. She sent him to bed, hugged him goodnight and told Noah she loved him, and then collapsed into her own bed.

The next day, Dean was there by nine in the morning. Alice had taken a day off work and was sitting at the counter in her pajamas when the doorbell rang.

The first thing Dean did was hug her and tell her she looked great. In one hand, he had a teddy bear with a pink bow in it and a book— _Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe—_ tucked under another arm. Alice wanted to cry when he asked to go and see Cara. Also because he was so warm to her even after she made the comment about Noah growing up without a father figure.

The little girl was half awake, propped up on some pillows, still feeling floaty from the drugs. Her room was dark and she ran a finger over the stitching on her lip.

There was a knock at the door before it opened, which was odd because Mommy never knocked. When a man in a large leather jacket walked in, it took her a moment to realize who it was. Daddy.

Cara burst into tears when she saw him, she wasn't really sure why.

"Hey Care-bear," Dean said softly, heart clenching at his daughter's battered face, which he could see even in the dark. "I got you a Care-bear." She cried even harder when he handed her the bear.

'He's so soft," she sniffled. Dean noticed her words sounded slurred and poorly-formed.

"How are you feeling?"

"My face hurts," she cried, immediately reaching for her father. He moved quickly and engulfed her in a hug.

"Shh, it's okay, baby." He removed his arms from around her and removed something from the inside of his jacket. "I got you something else."

Her eyes lit up when she saw the outline of a book. "What book is it?" The tears slowed.

"Uhh… _Chronicles of Narnia?_ Have you heard of it?"

"Uh-huh!" Cara said enthusiastically.

"Do you want me to read it to you?"

"Uh-huh!"

Dean positioned himself so one arm was around his daughter and began to read the fantastical novel.

Even at seven years old, she didn't have the heart to tell him she'd already read the book twice.

* * *

Alice tried her best not to be cold to Noah when she met him at the bus stop. He probably wouldn't understand why she would be still be mad at him.

"Daddy came for a visit," she said when they were walking back, hand in hand. At this age, Noah often resisted when Alice tried to hold his hand, perhaps he was trying to placate her.

"Is he mad at me?"

She paused. She didn't know. "I don't know." Even after raising kids for so many years, she wondered how she could say things that she never would've said when she tutored middle schoolers back when she was in high school. Why would she say these things to her own child; things that as an adult even _she_ didn't understand? Cara and Noah noticed most kids had parents that lived together or were at least _divorced—_ not some man who showed up however many years ago, knocked Alice up, and then came back every few months. _That_ was normal to them, but they knew it wasn't normal for other families. And Alice still didn't know how to define the relationship she had with Dean, but she suspected it was most man's dream relationship.

Noah sniffled but didn't say anything.

"Do you have any homework, Noah?"

He shook his head. "No, Mommy."

"Noah."

He sighed. "I have to read one book aloud to you. _And_ I have to do the takeaways."

 _Those damn takeaways,_ she could imagine Noah was probably unconsciously thinking.

When the two returned home, they found Cara sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a milkshake through a straw, and Dean leaning over the back of the chair, pointing out an illustration in the book he'd brought her.

Immediately brightening up, the little boy wrenched his grip from Alice's hand and ran over to his father. "Daddy!" Dean responded by picking up Noah in a hug.

Attention diverted from her, Cara scowled at her younger brother. Alice had made Noah apologize to Cara and give her a hug last night. She had been drugged up and giggled at him. She didn't remember it, but, she was more irritated about the fact Daddy so abruptly switched his attention to Noah. Alice was quick to sit down beside Cara and ask how she was doing. Cara liked it when both parents were there at the same time. It was nice when Daddy came to visit.

"Mommy! Daddy said he'd take me to the park!"

Hair whipping, Alice spun and glared at Dean, her lips in a thin line. Guiltily, Dean nodded and tried to

communicate a deeper meaning with his eyes. Alice at least got that much. "Fine. But you're doing your homework before."

"But Mo—"

" _Don't_ start with me Noah Leonardo."

The little boy shut his mouth quickly, looking down at the ground. After a minute, he turned to Dean. "Daddy, can I read you a book for my homework?"

"Don't forget your takeaways, young man," Alice reminded sternly.

Noah gave her an almost scathing glance, but quickly left the room before she could say anything back.

Dean followed his son into the other room.

Alice stared after the open doorway.

"You look sad, Mommy."

"I'm not sad, sweetie." Alice smoothed down Cara's hair and kissed her temple.

"You don't need to be mad at Noah."

Alice sat there in silence.

"It's okay that he pushed me."

"Cara, you know it's not okay."

"No, he didn't mean it."

"I know he didn't, but it still doesn't make what he did okay." Surely if Cara could forgive Noah, Alice should.

The sound of sucking on a straw filled the room, covering Noah's voice stumbling over a tricky word.

"Everyone is always so sad when Daddy leaves. Where does he go, Mommy?" Alice wasn't going to be the one to touch that question. She didn't know and didn't want to know.

"I know, I wish he could stay sometimes too," Cara answered herself.

Alice continued to stroke her daughter's hair, wishing that one day Cara would understand that Dean would never simply complete a typical nuclear family, just because he was _Dean._ Alice didn't understand it much herself. There was always a bit of curiosity, but Dean had an almost dangerous aura around him. Alice didn't think Dean was dangerous, but there seemed to be things about his past and makeup that could be fatal if known. That sharp aura about him was the reason she never asked. Maybe if she didn't have kids she would, but Alice not only had to take care of them, but herself, because if something were to happen to her, Cara and Noah would be shipped off to Aunt Jan. And as much as Alice loved her aunt, she didn't know how well Cara and Noah would fare with the eccentric, unstructured woman. So _that_ was why Dean's world was left in the little cubbyhole with the key thrown away.

Dean would always be in a completely different orbit than Alice and the kids.

It was something Alice had to remind herself of every time Dean exited that front door.

Even though he was only in the other room right now, she could feel that gap.

* * *

Noah had finished his math faster than Dean thought it was possible for a five-year-old to count to ten. He was just thankful both kids seemed to get Alice's brains.

The first thing Noah grabbed before the two left for the park was a football. It was such a harmless thing, but Dean had always looked at sports with a certain level of disdain. Sammy had tried an array of different sports, because it was the "normal" thing do to. Tackling other dudes to get a ball seemed like a tremendous waste of time. Whatever. It made Noah happy, and Dean guessed that was good enough. But if it made him aggressive towards his sister, that was something Dean figured he should address.

Once at the park, Noah began to run with the ball, telling Dean to go long.

Crouching down, Dean gently caught Noah's arm, and spoke once the two were eye level. "Yeah, we'll play in a minute. Let's have a talk, first."

Noah stilled. "Okay," he agreed, solemn.

Dean sighed and glanced up at the sky, clear, blue, virtually the same whether it was over an expanse of asphalt or a Midwestern park.

He looked at his son, wondering if his blue eyes came from Mary or the delightful Sherry Mercer.

Setting himself straight, Dean took a deep breath, the kind he took right before a hunt. This breath was particularly good, steadying too. "Noah," he began, "You're nearly six years old, so you're pretty much a man." Noah's chest puffed out in response.

"But, being a man doesn't just mean being strong and awesome—which you already are, by the way. Being a man is so much more than that, Noah. Family always comes first, remember that. You protect your mother and your sister, and you _don't hurt them."_ He hypocritically thought to the previous year, telling Alice that it wasn't Cara's job to look after Noah. So why was it his job to look out for them?

Dean didn't let himself answer that question.

The shiny look was rubbed out of Noah's eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt her. No one cries when they get pushed in football."

"Football is just a game, Noah, and Cara isn't a football player. Mom and Cara didn't understand that you were just playing a game. But, normal life is not a game, Noah, its serious stuff. You should know it's _never_ okay to hurt someone…unless, they hurt you or your mom or Cara. Noah, being a man means standing up for those that can't stand up for themselves and protecting those closest to you."

The five-year-old's eyes were shiny again, and lapping up every word Dean had to offer. "I'll keep them safe when you're gone, Daddy."

Dean smiled proudly and ruffled his son's hair. "I know you will."

* * *

Dean and Noah returned from the park, and the boy went upstairs to take a nap-something he rarely did.

Cara was asleep again, still exhausted from the medication.

Alice was sitting at the kitchen table, not really sure what to do with herself.

"Did you have fun at the park?" she asked as Dean sat across from her.

He nodded. "We threw around a football a bit. Had a talk. Man to man."

Alice's face fell. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it when I said Noah didn't have any male figures in his life."

Dean gave a mirthless, sad little smirk. "Yes you did."

She felt like she was slapped across the face. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"But it's true, Allie. You're basically raising these kids alone. You do what you have to do, what you think is right for them. Look, if I had to raise them by myself, I would have no idea what to do with Cara."

She stared at the man across from her, guiltily. "Don't be mad at me."

He grabbed her hand. "Never, Allie. There's nothing you could do that would make me mad at you."

She looked down at the table, sheepishly. "Have you heard anything about the Hanratty boys?"

Dean thought to the previous year, when Cara and Noah had almost been drowned by two psychopathic school-age brothers. They had hung themselves while in custody, and only to have their bodies vanish.

Dean had followed every whisper of a lead and researched every speck that could've lead him to those boys.

But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It was like Tyler and Jason Hanratty had never existed.

"No. Haven't heard a single thing about them."

"Their parents were under investigation for awhile. They were as normal and boring as anyone got. No explanation for how their sons ended up as mini-Dahmer's," Alice said, tracing Dean's hand.

Dean shrugged. "Nature vs. nurture, I guess."

That drew a look from Alice.

"What?" he asked, innocently.

She smirked a bit. "I just didn't think you knew much about psychology."

"That's all I knew. I remember Sammy reading about that crap when he was in high school."

Alice glanced carefully at Dean. "How is he?"

He shrugged. "As far as I know, college-boy is great."

"Dean, you should really reach out to him."

Dean stood up, snatching his hand out of her grasp. "He made it perfectly clear he didn't want anything to do with our family. It's been over a year, Allie. I'm not holding my breath anymore. He made his decision."

Alice was silent as she watched Dean pace huffily. Last year, he was so torn with Sam leaving, and now here he was, playing it up like it was all his brother's fault. Alice knew it was much more complicated than that, and Dean was just putting on a macho mask so he wouldn't have to talk about it. But in the year since Sam had been gone, Alice felt she saw Dean less, because he was bending over backwards to do whatever his father asked him to.

She ground her teeth at the thought of John Winchester, feeling the usual hatred for a man she never met.

"Where's your dad, now?"

"East Coast. I have to meet him in a couple days for a job in Rhode Island."

She nodded, wishing he could stay for longer than a few days. She wanted to tell him that, but she wouldn't do that.

"How's Jan?" Dean asked.

Alice squinted her eyes slightly. He was always sure to ask about her oddball aunt, which she thought was nice, but a bit strange. "I'm pretty sure she has a 'boyfriend'."

Dean smirked. "Boyfriend?"

She felt herself grimacing. "Not exactly a boyfriend. More like a friend with benefits."

That caused Dean to burst out laughing. He didn't know what was so funny about it. When he was done, he noticed Alice staring at him with a bemused smile. "What? I'm just glad that means I don't have to hear about the however-many-years-a-widow spiel. It gets a little old, you know?"

"I lived with the woman for five years. Trust me, I know."

Dean smirked. "She's something else."

"Yes, she is. I love her but I'm glad I don't live in that house anymore. It was so gloomy." Dean glanced around the house. They both knew the white, open house was starkly different to Jan's dark wood, heavy curtained home. Alice felt so much life in this building. This was her home.

This was really the first place she could completely call her own home.

To some degree, at her parent's house-or even Jan's-she felt that she was encroaching on their privacy and their lives. And she hoped her children never felt that way.

But if either parent could help it, those kids would never live a day without knowing they had a home.

* * *

Her lip was swollen. Cara poked at the inflamed skin, but didn't feel much pain. The medicine they had given here worked beautifully. She was just a little upset she had lost her first tooth by it being knocked out.

With a sigh of boredom, Cara leaned back against her pillow. She had been relegated to bedrest for the past few days. Normally, Cara would've done anything to not have to go to school-she had pretended to be sick before-but it was just boring now that she was actually hurt.

The white door open slightly flew open so hard it banged against the wall. That scared Cara enough for her to sit more upright against the pillows.

"Oh," she muttered muddily, seeing Noah standing there in the doorway.

"When are you gonna start going to school again?" The little, black haired boy asked, walking towards the bed. He stopped about four feet away, hands guiltily clasped behind his back.

Cara shrugged. "Dunno."

"Sorry."

She shrugged again. Noah had already said sorry to her, but she knew it was just because their mom had made him. But this time, it seemed like he meant it, like he actually felt bad about it. "It's okay."

"You forgive me?" Noah asked, eyes suddenly going wide with hope.

She nodded "Yeah. I guess so."

"I promise I won't hurt you again, Care."

"Okay, No. I believe you."

Feeling a heavy weight lift off his five year old shoulders, Noah nodded and quietly left the room after that. He closed the door so it didn't slam shut and went downstairs to the kitchen. He went into the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk, after climbing on the counter to get the cups down.

He went into the cabinet and got out bread and peanut butter. Going about all the steps at making a peanut butter sandwich, he was spreading the peanut butter on one slice of bread when Alice wandered into the kitchen, a laundry basket under one arm. She stopped and stared at him for a moment.

"Do you need help?"

Noah stopped what he was doing and glanced over at her. "No, Mommy, I can do it."

Feeling a swelling feeling in her chest she hadn't felt in a few days, Alice-for a very brief moment-caught a glance at what Noah might be like when he was older.

And she was incredibly proud at what she saw.

Maybe she had been too hard on him.

"I'm proud of you," she said, suddenly, as she lifted up the basket back in her arms.

Almost not at all surprised at what she was saying, Noah took a break from what he was doing and smiled at her. "Thanks Mommy."

Noah turned back and went back to assembling his sandwich. Alice went back to walking the laundry down the stairs and the family went on living.

* * *

 **Here's another chapter! Hope you enjoyed.**


	19. Screaming Angels

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Screaming Angels**

* * *

 **2003**

* * *

Things had grown stale. Dean's life became a monotonous loop, something easily predicted. Not even hunting could quite take the numbness away.

And even now, as he sat at the dinner table after being away for a few months, Dean couldn't think of anything to say to Alice or the kids. There was an awkward silence that blanketed over the table, masked only by the clinks of silverware against plates.

Alice was careful to not glance in his direction. Ever since he had gotten there, her excitement had quickly been deflated when it seemed like Dean hadn't wanted to even visit. Cara and Noah could also sense something was off with their father, but they chose to ignore it. They acted like nothing was wrong.

"How's everything been?" Alice asked, focusing on her plate.

"It's been. How bout you Alice, kids?"

"Fine," Cara said.

"Good," Noah responded.

"Great," Alice muttered behind a chew of food.

"What?"

She turned to look at Dean. "Nothing."

He held her gaze for a minute, before looking back down at his own space. "That's good."

"Isn't it," she commented to herself. She couldn't help but feel some bitter resentment bubbling up, a quite ugly feeling. She only got to see the man she loved a few times a year, and it pissed her off he didn't seem to even want to be here. Sure, Alice would give him the benefit of the doubt for whatever he did when he was with his father. She knew it wasn't easy and he got injured quite a bit, but she couldn't help to think that _at least_ seeing the kids would make Dean happy.

She just wished he would've been happy to see her.

After nine years of knowing her, was Dean finally growing tired of her? Had he finally realized she was the duddy plain-jane from high school? Had he realized that even after two kids, she wasn't exactly what he wanted? Alice knew she was boring by all definitions of the word.

But it wouldn't be Dean's fault.

It couldn't be his fault.

Alice sat there quietly while the deafening, inordinate sounds of chewing and clinking cushioned and filled the room, pressing against her ear drums. The metallic clatter of silverware infinitely multiplied until there was a constant tinny in her ears. The fork and knife in her hands suddenly started to feel slippery, as her palms began to sweat. The pounding of her heart replaced the ringing in her ears. She swore she could see the blood rushing through her veins, behind her eyes, which sounded like rushing water.

A sudden, single ring of the doorbell punctured her reverie like the skin of a drum bursting. Jumping up faster than Dean could even tense, Alice dropped her silverware and pushed back from the chair, like a racehorse out of the gate.

She yanked the door open with such fervor, she pitched forward, nearly knocking into the surprised guest.

"You alright?" The guest asked, grabbing Alice by the shoulders.

Leveling out, Alice took a deep breath. "Aunt Jan...what are you doing here?"

The older woman smiled. "What? I can't make a surprise visit once in awhile?"

Alice shrugged. "It's just that you're not the only one here right now."

Jan patted her niece's shoulder and slid into the house. "Oh I know. I saw that gawky car from a mile away."

"No one talks about Baby that way," Dean said, appearing around the corner. "Good to see you, Jan."

"You too, kid. You've been good to Allie and the kids?"

Dean's lips pursed into a thin line. "The best I can, m'am."

Jan dropped the serious glare and guffawed. She wrapped Dean in a hug. "I'm just messing with you!" She said loudly. "I need to talk to you later," she whispered into his ear, before pulling away. "Where are my great niece and nephew?" Jan announced loudly, moving further into the house, emerging into the dining room, to Cara and Noah still sitting in their seats.

When they saw their great aunt there was a mixture of confusion and a bit of regret.

Jan laughed at the horrified looks on their faces. "I'll never know why they're never excited to see me!" she announced to Alice, who woodenly moved back into the room, glad there was something to quell the awkward silence that had previously encumbered the meal.

"Cara, Noah, don't be rude. Say hi to Aunt Jan."

Chastened, the kids sullenly climbed down from their chairs and gave Jan a reluctant, short hug. Afterwards, they disappeared into the kitchen before Alice could tell them to sit back down.

"Sorry about them. They're-"

"I know how they are, Alice. Guess kids don't like me for some reason."

Alice felt a pang of sadness. "I liked you."

"That's cause you were raised by the devil herself," Jan responded. "And you were barely a kid when you moved in with me. Really, Alice. It's not a big deal. Don't worry, I don't really care what a couple of kids think about me. My ego isn't that fragile."

"So...what are you doing here?"

"I'm just here to visit, Allie. If that's okay."

"Yeah great. I'll go make you some coffee. You still like it black?"

"You know I do."

When Alice was gone, Jan waited a couple minutes before reaching into her purse and pulled out a manila envelope. She handed it do Dean.

"What is this?" He stared at the unopened folder in his hand. In angry black permanent marker, _SCREAMING ANGELS_ was scratched across the cover.

Jan gave him a look like he was an imbecile. "It's not gonna sing to you. Open it, Winchester."

He flipped it open and found a collection of newspaper articles, interview transcripts, maps, and photographs, some that looked like normal portraits. The most jarring things were the crime scene photos. In the black and white pictures, Dean could make out several bodies spread eagled on the ground, mouth dark with blood, like it had been torn and ripped and sliced open.

The most horrific part of the photos was that the victims were children.

Dean slammed it shut. He didn't think anything had the ability to turn his stomach, but those pictures sure did the trick.

"Is this a case?"

Jan nodded. "Yep. Nine kids have been found like that. They call them screaming angels because when they're found, their bodies are placed like they're making snow angels in winter."

"And the screaming part."

"Yeah. Also that," she said solemnly.

"The newspapers think it's a serial killer?"

Jan nodded.

"What makes you think it's anything other than a serial killer?"

She gave a disapproving shake of her head. "I know you don't really think that. But if you do, you're a whole lot dumber than I thought you were."

"I was just asking."

"Well, hypothetically, if you really wanted to know, I have it on good authority that it's supernatural. Want proof? Look at the picture in the very back."

Dean shuffled through the folder until he reached the back. It was a photograph. This one was colorized. It was grainy, as is stolen from a traffic camera. But in the picture, there were three distinguishable figures. One taller, and two shorter.

The two ones stood out to Dean immediately.

"Is that…"

"Those two blondes look a lot like the deceased Tyler and Jason Hanratty. Don't they?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"That photograph was taken in Dekalb. A couple hours later, two kids were found murdered in their backyard."

Jan took the folder from Dean and began to explain the pieces of information. "Dekalb, Illinois. Brother and sister Kyle and Tawny, aged eleven and thirteen found dead in backyard. No witnesses. No DNA.

"One in Sterling, Illinois. Another three in Moline, Iowa. Walnut and Atlantic, two more cities in Iowa. One in Broken Bow, Nebraska."

"Broken Bow?"

"That's right."

Janet produced a map with a thick red marks where the murders took place. Through the marks was a blue line, following the path of the killer.

The first mark was placed on Broken Bow.

Dean followed the line and where it ended.

It ended in Batavia, Illinois.

* * *

"You're leaving?"

Dean set his duffle bag on the bed, hating every minute of this.

"You're leaving?" Alice repeated. She had been in the middle of folding a shirt. It was clenched tightly in her hands, wrinkling.

"Yes."

"But you've only been here for a day. You normally try to stay for at least a couple days."

"I'm sorry. But something came up."

Alice felt tears prick her eyes, wondering what that _something_ could be, whether it was a job with his father, or a leggy blonde waitress in a bar somewhere. She tried to remind herself not to get jealous. She and Dean had never talked about remaining monogamous. _She_ had wanted to, but had no idea if he did or not. She didn't really want to know. The idea of Dean being with someone else made her feel sick, even though she had no right to feel that way, since they had never defined themselves as anything other than coparents. They had been high school lovers, and Alice knew Dean loved her, but someone could love more than one person at a time. And you didn't need to have to be in love with someone to sleep with them.

"I see."

"Everyone would be better off if I left."

"Who would be better off?"

"Allie…"

" _Who_? The kids? You? _Me?"_ She felt her voice breaking at the very last inquiry, as if it were a joke that she would be better off without him.

"No of course not. I don't want to leave."

"Then _don't."_

"I _have_ to. Please don't ask why."

Alice scoffed, dropping the shirt. She turned around and brought both hands to her forehead. She took a deep breath and then turned back around. "I wasn't gonna ask why. I don't wanna know why."

She figured the truth would just break her heart even more.

"Okay."

"Maybe you just never should've came in the first place."

Dean felt like he'd been stung. "What?"

"You're leaving after spending one night here. And even when you got here, it was like you didn't want to be here. I'm not saying I want you to be jumping for joy whenever you stop by, but maybe only show up when you actually want to see us. I hate it when you act like this is some chore for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Dean Winchester! Even the kids can tell you don't want to be here!"

"Look, Allie! I do, I really do want to be here, but life's been hard lately. Everything's just been the same."

"Oh _I'm sorry_ visiting us is _boring_ for you! You think _your_ life's been the same? At least you get to move around the country. I'm stuck in this damn house and the same damn job doing the same damn thing every fucking damn day." Through the hysteria, all she could think about was how excited she had been to Dean coming. She had spent the past several days cleaning the house, making sure everything was spotless. She had taken off work for two days and had felt herself feeling more bubbly than usual, all in anticipation for this man who now stood in front of her, saying he wanted to leave.

"Allie, I'm sorry. I _love_ visiting you and the kids more than anything else. You have to know that."

She ignored him. "I really don't ask for much from you, Dean. Do I? All I ask is when- _if-_ you come, that you're here, that you're engaged with the kids and wanna spend time with them.

"Look, you can't break my heart, but you're gonna break theirs." She pointed towards the door, tears freely falling down her face.

It was a lie.

Alice had always claimed that he had never broken her heart, but he did once.

Once when they were teenagers in a crappy diner right after Alice had found out he was leaving and that she was pregnant.

And now here, nearly a decade later, where they were in their twenties and had two kids in elementary school.

And it didn't hurt and less.

Hell, it hurt even more than the first time.

"Allie, I swear I have a good reason."

She gave a watery laugh. "I'm sure you do. That's why this hurts."

"I don't wanna hurt you. That's the last thing I wanna do."

"Well, then it's the last thing you're doing."

Just done, Alice grabbed Dean's duffle bag and walked out of the room. She tromped down the stairs with it and swung the front door open.

Dean followed closely behind as he watched Alice open the back door of the Impala and throw the bag harshly into the backseat. She slammed the door as he winced and crossed her arms, facing him.

"Go ahead. There's nothing stopping you now."

"Allie…"

"Will you stop calling me that?"

They were quiet for a moment. "No. Never."

She felt her heart cracking even further. "I don't want to prolong this anymore. Just leave. I'll tell the kids I made you leave."

Dean wanted to rush forward and sweep the woman in front of him up in his arms. Even when she was so angry with him, she was still putting his needs above her own.

"I'm not gonna let you do that."

" _Let_ me?"

"Allie-"

"I _told_ you not to call me-"

"Mom?"

"Cara, go inside. I'll be in in a minute."

The eight year old disregarded her mother and stepped out of the house onto the driveway. Her glasses-only a few weeks old-were crooked on her face. Dean wanted to reach out and fix them. "What's going on?"

"Cara-"

"It's fine, Alice. Cara, I've gotta go." Making his voice softer, Dean came over and squatted in front of Cara. "I have to leave."

She frowned. "But you just got here."

"I know, sweetheart, but there's something important that I have to do."

"Oh. What do you have to do?"

"Cara," Alice snapped.

"I was just wondering, Mom." Cara glanced at her mother again. "Why are you crying?"

Alice wiped her eyes. "God, please. Cara, would you just go inside?" She couldn't bear to even look at the little girl, knowing she wouldn't be able to hold the tears back.

"Why are you sad? Why is Daddy leaving?"

Overwhelmed by the questions, Alice nearly exploded at her daughter. She wanted to tell her everything, tell her every accusation she had against Dean, every bad thought. "He just has so go."

Stubbornly, Cara crossed her arms. "But _why?_ Is it cause I'm not mature enough?"

"I can't say why," Dean said. "Not even Mom knows why."

"Okay…" Cara looked at her mother and started to feel sad. It was always scary to see your parents upset. That was a sign something was really wrong.

Having reached an impasse, Dean stared at the two in front of him. Cara looked like a mini version of Alice, sans the glasses. Alice was doing all she could to cover up the tears.

Dean reached out and pulled Cara into a hug. "I'm sorry that I have to go. I love you, sweetheart. Okay?" He straightened up.

"Wait." Cara grabbed his hand. "Just stay for one more day."

"No, Cara. I can't. I have to go." He removed his hand from her grasp.

"Well, when are you gonna come back?"

"I don't know."

"Can I go with you?"

"No. You have to stay here with your mother."

"But I wanna go with you!" Her voice started to take on a whinier quality.

"Cara Clementine, you're not going with him."

"Why not?"

Alice raised her eyebrows and motioned to Dean. "Go ahead. Tell your daughter why she can't go with you."

"It's dangerous."

"It's because I'm a kid! Isn't it? I'm eight, I'm not a baby."

Dean glanced over at Alice questioningly. He didn't know when Cara became so obsessed with age, but it obviously happened since the last time he'd visited.

"Yes it's because you're a child," Dean said. "You can't come with me."

Shocked, Cara crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. Then leave."

With that, she spun around and slammed the front door behind herself.

Resonating with Cara, Alice took a deep breath. "You really should go."

Dean nodded, still shocked by Cara's reaction. His daughter had always been excited to see him whenever he visited. His little princess. But, we was beginning to see leaving was the best for everyone. "What about Noah?"

Alice scoffed. "That kid worships you. His reaction is gonna be twice as bad as Cara's. Just go."

Keys hung loosely in one hand, Dean stared at the shut front door. Somewhere in that house was a broken hearted girl, broken because of him. It wasn't the first time he had broken a girl's heart, but besides Alice, Dean had never felt such a resounding pain in his gut.

And it was different, even from Alice, because Alice, the first time, could have been counted as another pretty girl in a small town that Dean ruled for a few weeks. But Cara was part of him, something he had helped bring into this world.

It was an entirely different kind of situation.

"I'm sorry, Allie. I really wish I could stay."

Dean waited for a response, but when he didn't get one, he let out a final sigh and slowly moved towards the Impala. His hand hovered over the handle, and then he slowly lowered himself into the car.

"I love you," Dean said, window rolled down.

Alice heard the sound of rushing water in her ears. She stared at Dean, eyes shiny, even from where he sat in the Impala.

The first time the two parted ways, all Dean had seen was the hem of Alice's dress rising up as she stomped away from him. He hadn't seen how her face was hollowed out in complete shock, and how she turned down an alleyway to cry because she didn't want to walk all over Broken Bow wailing.

This time, he got to see her face in the rearview mirror as he drove down the damn tree-lined road.

Alice's hair was pulled back in a low pony tail. The color seemed to have lightened over the years, a light caramel color. In the low pony, her wavy hair now reached halfway down her back. She wore a blue and red flannel and a pair of light wash jeans. She was barefoot.

Her face was pale, like she was a ghost. There were no crinkles in her face, the skin was smooth and porcelain. The only indication she was sad were the shimmering trails of tears running down her cheeks.

She stared right at him until he turned the corner.

After all the terrible things he had seen, he reckoned it was an image that would never leave him.

* * *

"Sweet ride," Jan commented as she climbed into the passenger side of the car.

Dean rolled his eyes, glaring out the window from where he was parked at a gas station.

"You know, that corn dog will kill you faster than any demon," Jan admonished, noticing the snack in his hand. He took an angry bite of the corndog he had gotten from the Gas 'n Go.

"I'll keep that in mind when I'm a hundred," Dean snapped back.

That surprised Jan. The boy had always been perfectly respectful to her. A little too respectful in her opinion.

She actually prefered this. "Please. In your line of work, you'd be lucky to make it over the hills."

"Good to know," Dean grumpily replied. Polishing off the corn dog, he threw the stick it had been on out the window.

"Someone better tell the doctor to rebalance their Prozac doses," she muttered out of the corner of her house, noticing some legos shoved into the air vent.

"Is this funny to you?" Dean suddenly demanded, turning to face the older woman.

Jan smirked at him. "From the things I've seen and lived through, everything is funny."

"Really? You think Alice crying at me to get out of her house is funny? You gonna laugh that I made my eight year old daughter cry?"

"If it means Alice, Cara, and Noah stay alive and safe, then _yes._ You know better than anyone the costs of this life. It's tough, thankless work."

Dean wanted to tell Jan she didn't know what she was talking about, but the woman had lost her husband, and had obviously seen more than she was ever going to share.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"Yeah there is. I screwed up Alice's life."

Jan pursed her lips and thought about that. If Dean had never wasted his time with Alice, the girl would probably have a pretentious degree, married to a pretentious man, in a pretentious house, with a pretentious baby.

"You made her happy."

"Really? Cause I'm pretty sure I just broke her heart."

"The girl'll come around. Give her time."

"I don't deserve her."

"No, you don't. No one does."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Okay, at the expense of my bleeding heart, let's go find and kill this bastard."

"Sounds good." Dean tried to drum up some enthusiasm, but he felt hopeless.

* * *

"Now I remember why I never wear these monkey suits." Jan pulled at the starched white collar of the button up she wore. Over that, she wore a navy blue blazer and a matching pencil skirt. She also wore black patent leather pumps, hair pulled back in an intricate coif.

"Shh," Dean cut across from her as the two strode through the doors of the Dekalb Police Department.

"You try walking in these," she muttered back.

Dean was beginning to wonder if Jan had gotten rusty when it came to hunting, as she couldn't seem to stay focused.

"Can I help you two?" A young-and much to Dean's chagrin-male secretary asked as the two walked up to the front desk.

"We were hoping to talk to Detective Hoss," Dean supplied.

The _male_ secretary squinted his eyes suspiciously. "And you are?"

Jan's shiny FBI badge was suddenly slapped down the the counter the man sat behind. He stared at up her in shock.

"Well, I'm sure you can read. Go ahead. Who does it say I am?"

"Special Agent Gertrude Kreiner?"

Jan gave a condescending smirk and snatched the badge back. "Good job."

In awe, Dean quickly recovered and pulled out his own badge.

The secretary squinted his eyes again. "Special Agent _Miriam_ Touleaux?"

Dean grinned, trying hard not to grimace. "It's a family name. Would you believe I'm Miriam Touleaux the Third? Of course, I was named after my mother and grandmother but hey...Detective Hoss?" Dean asked, feeling his voice raising in pitch.

"Uhh, just go through those doors. Someone will help you." The secretary pointed to a glass door, as if he just wanted to get rid of the fake agents.

" _Miriam?_ Really? Miriam? What? Touleaux wasn't bad enough for you?" Dean hissed when they were down the hallway towards the offices. That was the last time he ever let Jan make the fake badges.

"Could've looked at it after I gave it to you. Better than those rock aliases you use."

"How do you-"

"Please. You don't think there's ever been an Agent Jimi Nicks or Joan Joplin? Don't act like you have anything to teach me."

Knocked off his feet with the sudden respect that grew for the woman, Dean was silent as the two were directed to the Detective's office.

Detective Hoss was a sleazy looking man. He had black slicked back hair and a a weasley face. But it was very apparent this man who had a connish appearance had a heart of gold.

"Is there anything I can get for you two? Coffee? We have donuts…"

"No, please, Detective Hoss…"

"Please, Adrian. Call me Adrian."

"Right. I'm Trudie. This is my partner. Miriam."

Detective Hoss paused and glanced at Dean, unsure. "Miriam? Just…"

"Yes sir, just Miriam." Dean smiled through gritted teeth.

"It's a family name," Jan smirked. "It's _French."_

"Right." At a loss for words, Hoss quickly and helpfully began to fill the two in on the situation. "Due to the crimes occurring in such quick succession, we're wondering if it's more than one killer. And due to how recent they are, word hasn't spread. You can imagine parents would be horrified.

"No doubt. I can only imagine. Miriam over here can tell you."

Hoss seemed to gain some sympathy, even more than the name garnered. "You have kids?"

"Sure. He's got a little Miriam at home too," Jan answered for him.

Dean smiled weakly. "Gotta carry on the legacy name."

"Yeah, you should see little Miriam. She's an absolute doll," Jan chortled.

" _Anyways,_ back to the case, Detective," Dean said, voice raising in volume.

"Right right, well anything you two need, you can take and look at anything in the station. I'll make sure all the officers are extra helpful. Anything to catch these psychopaths."

"Thank you very much, Adrian. I think we'll find everything we need here," Jan assured, shaking the man's hand.

* * *

After speaking to David Newsenhousen, the widowed father of the children Tawny and Kyle, both Dean and Jan were almost entirely sure it was demonic.

"That poor man," Jan intoned solemnly as the two left. David had lost his wife to cancer a few years earlier, and was now on suicide watch, after finding his children's bodies. They had visited him in the locked psych ward of the hospital.

Dean nodded his head, but remained silent. He didn't want to even fantasize what that man was going through.

"Those SOBs are going to pay for tearing apart so many families."

"Yes they are," Dean agreed.

He would drag them down to Hell himself, if he had to.

* * *

Jan took a sip of her coffee and pushed the sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose. At the park bench she sat on, she felt like a spy. At this point, it had been a solid fifteen years since she had been on a hunt, and even longer since she'd worked a case with someone else. For all intents and purposes, she had been virtually retired.

However, there was one thing that would always catapult her out of retirement. And that was demons. She couldn't stand the smug, slimy, destructive bastards, especially when they overtook some poor young girl from a superstitious family. She thought briefly of Nina, and wondered how the girl was doing. She should call her soon.

Now, even Jan could muster up some sympathy for other monsters. Ghosts could be vengeful spirits or tortured souls that couldn't move on. Werewolves could be vicious pack leaders or unassuming victims of a bite they could never get rid of. Each situation was different, but regardless of the situation, Jan would never give a demon even a mustard seed of empathy.

Yawning, Jan turned her head to the side and glanced in the direction of a woman sitting a few benches away, down the trail. She was nondescript. Dishwater blonde hair, mom jeans, and an old high school tshirt. She looked relaxed, a magazine in one hand.

It was undoubtedly the woman that had appeared in the photo with Jason and Tyler Hanratty. Jan didn't know if she was possessed or not, but was betting good money on it. And she looked like she could have been their mother. She drew less attention to them. Two little boys by themselves would catch some eyes especially when there was an alleged child serial killer on the loose.

While she tailed the woman, Dean was busy trying to find any leads on the possessed brothers.

Focusing intently on the woman, Jan jumped when her cell phone began to ring. Muttering to herself, she frantically searched her pockets while the irritating song played incessantly. "Goddamn cell phones. Yeah, Miriam?"

"Funny. Yeah, but I have sights on the Shining twins."

"Okay."

"Fifty Three West Elm."

"Ten-four."

Hanging up the phone, Jan stuffed it back into her pocket and picked up the coffee cup. She looked down at her wrist, pretending to check the time.

"Excuse me? Do you have the time?"

Ready with holy water up her sleeve, Jan spun around and showered the blonde woman in it.

There was no reaction.

The woman smirked. "Sorry to disappoint."

While Jan was recovering from shock, the blonde woman blew some colored dust into Jan's face and whispered an incantation. Jan fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

Jan gasped awake when a bucket of cold water was splashed over her. Trying to edge away from the shivering, she realized she was tied to a wooden chair in a dark, windowless basement. She tested the ropes.

They were strong.

"Looks like someone got the knot-tying badge from Boy Scouts."

A hand smacked her across the face. "I've been waiting a long time for this, bitch."

Still out of it, she felt her eyes refocusing, as she surveyed the figure in front of her. A small boy with blonde hair, a striped t-shirt, and converse.

"Tyler?"

The boy blinked, showing black eyes. "Nope. This is Jason. But it doesn't matter. They're both downstairs. I'm the only thing keeping this sweet little body from rotting like an apple core."

Jan sneered at the demon in disgust. " _Omnipotens qui fugabunt-"_

The demon punched her across the face this time. "Not even gonna buy me dinner first. I see what you really think of me. Jacie, get me that rag."

The blonde woman who sat quietly in the corner retrieved the cloth and handed it to the demon.

"Oh Sonja, you'll regret-" The demon shoved the rag in Jan's mouth and tied it tightly around the back of her head.

"Not Sonja," the demon said, making a point. "I'm Nero. When she's done collecting Winchester she'll be back. And you'll be wishing she wasn't."

Jan rolled her eyes. She sent the bitch back once, she would do it again.

Nero chuckled. "See, I don't have as much of a talent as climbing out of Hell like Sonja does. I don't know how she does it. But lemme tell you, that hellfire has made me vengeful." He paused a minute. "Jacie, go find out where she is."

Jacie nodded and quietly left.

"Just some low level witch whore. She says she wants to be a demon, but who knows nowadays? Everyone changes their minds all the time. There's no loyalty or commitment. This world I crawled back into is shameful."

Jan snorted.

Nero suddenly leaned forward, bracing himself on the arms of the chair. Jan leaned back. The demon surely gained a dramatic effect by wearing a kid. "You're not much better, Mrs. Janet _Sutton._ "

Filled with righteous anger, Jan headbutted the demon as hard as she could. She immediately regretted the decision, black spots blossoming over her vision. But the hit was hard enough that the demon had been knocked back a few steps.

"Bitch! Wait till I-"

"Nero! She's mine!"

The door to the basement slammed open and several thudding footsteps rumbled to where Jan and Nero resided.

The other boy, Tyler, being worn by Sonja, had a grip on Dean, whose hand were tied tightly behind his back. Coming down the stairs after them, Jacie stopped halfway and waved her hand. The door shut loudly.

"No one will hear us," she said, to the demons.

Sonja shoved Dean forward and smirked. "Well, in that case." Moving with lightning speed, she launched forward and twisted Jacie's neck, the woman's limp body falling to the floor.

"Tying up loose ends."

Nero shrugged. "Eh. She got what she wanted."

Sonja smirked. "What can I say? I'm a giver."

"You fucking bitch. I swear-" There was a grunt as Sonja positioned herself behind a kneeling Dean and kicked his back. He fell forward, face slamming onto the concrete ground. There was a crunching sound and a waterfall of blood began to pour out of Dean's nose.

"Good to see you again Dean. Haven't seen you since you were a teen. You're all grown up and all handsome-well, that's debatable now." She grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hauled him back up to his knees.

"But I have to say, compared to your dad, you're underwhelming. At least he put up a fight." She turned to Nero.

"Here." Nero held out a cloth for Sonja to gag Dean with.

She scoffed. "Please. You think a grunt like him has an exorcism memorized. Besides, before I get to the bitch who crossed me, I want to have some fun with him. Get to know him. Stand him up."

Dean grunted as Nero grabbed him by the arms and held him up, bracing him.

Spitting out blood from his mouth, Dean felt double the amount of anger he would've felt. Yes, there was a demon in front of him, but seeing the face of one of the boys who tried to drown his kids caused sharp knives rage to travel through his body.

"Full circle, aren't we, Dean?"

He sneered at her, but didn't say anything.

Sonja chuckled in a way that was much to feminine and mature for the vessel she was riding. Not that Dean had any sympathy for him. "If you don't recognize me, I was the demon that possessed Sam's nerdy crush, Penny. Your father and I? We go way back.

"But anyways, I swear to you I had nothing to do with these two prodigy's' plans to drown your kids. It was pure fate that I found them when I did. Of course, their twisted little souls are downstairs, but I can feel their desires. They're so strong, that the essence of them still lingers, even after a year.

"The things they wanted to do to your pretty little girl, Dean. What's her name? Cara? Your little _Cara Mia."_

Dean had no control as he tried to launch himself forward. "If you touch her, I will kill you."

Sonja kneed him in the gut. "What a weak threat. You know, I remember watching a little Cara through the window of this bitch's house. Too bad I never got a chance to nab her. She's gonna be a beauty."

"I will slice you apart until your bones are white."

Sonja smirked and brought a finger to her chin. "Better. Still…" she punched him across the face.

Nero kept Dean from falling.

"But let's not forget. You have a son, too. _Noah._ When I came around the first time, he was nothing more than a couple of cells in Alice's growing stomach. Never had the chance to meet him. Can't wait."

"Bitch, I'm gonna make Hell look like Heaven when I'm done with you."

"So _cute._ You know, Dean, I had an issue with your father. But lucky for you, my anger has shifted to another. Look, depending on how this goes, Alice and those kiddos could remain unharmed. They're not the ones I'm after.

"I'm not even after _you._

"It's _her_ I want." Sonja pointed a finger to Jan. "All this work to lure you out. You have no idea how bloody my hands got. _Literally._ Do you see what you made me do? What it took to lure you out of your little shack in Chicago? Would you have let your niece and little grand niece and nephew die because you were a hermit?

"I do believe you are that selfish. It wouldn't be the first time you'd let a loved one die."

Jan screamed from behind the gag and reacted so harshly, the chair screeched a couple inches forward.

"Family. That's the vein with this one," Nero observed.

"More like failure to protect her family," Sonja corrected, smirking at Jan's hateful glare.

"Bitch, you're not even gonna be crawling when we're done with you."

Sonja yawned. "Never realized how boring you were, Dean. I forgot you were here."

"And I can't forget you're here because you keep gabbing. What is it about demons feeling the need to monologue? What are you? A poorly written movie villain?"

Unamused, Sonja backhanded him. "At least I have a story to tell, boy."

Dean spit out more blood. He could tell his nose was broken and that his face would be severely bruised. Sonja waited for a moment, but was satisfied when she thought Dean would be quiet for a few minutes.

"Okay and now-"

"Sonja!" Nero yelled.

As Sonja turned, she watched Jan suddenly standing from the chair, a silver knife in one hand. She spit the gag out with one hand and dumped holy water at Sonja.

"No!" The demon screamed in petulant anger.

Shoving Dean to the side, Nero charged at Jan. Hands up like a boxer, Jan dodged a punch and landed one across Nero's jaw. It was actually more difficult to fight him since he was so small. He grabbed her around the stomach and tackled her to the ground. " _Omnipotens, qui fugabunt maligni spiritus invoco-"_

Screaming, Nero let go of Jan, rolling over in pain. Using the advantage, the woman popped back up and continued chanting. " _Quia pius es, hunc peccatorem-"_

Frightened, Sonja was backing away from Jan. Looking around frantically, Sonja was quickly realizing there wasn't much she could do now. "No bitch!"

Nearly halfway through the exorcism, Sonja was now locked in the vessel, too weak to escape the body. Feeling anger and fear alike, Sonja spat at Jan's feet, who continued to confidently recite the Latin. Sonja looked towards Nero, who was motionless on the ground.

"The third time you cross me, Janet Sutton, I'll kill you," Sonja vowed.

"Then I guess I'll drag you back down to Hell with me and make sure you stay there this time for good. Amen, bitch."

Simultaneously, smoke erupted from the mouths of the Hanratty brothers and dissipated into the floor. The bodies shuddered a few times, but then became still.

Breathing heavily, Jan walked over and cut the rope that still secured his wrists. "You need to learn how to untie a knot, kid."

Standing, Dean stared at Jan, impressed. "That was…"

Jan waved him off. "It was nothing. Look, right now we have to cover our tracks so there's no connection between you and these boys."

Dean glanced down at the dead bodies of the boys that had almost drowned his kids. Although it was more than two years ago, he could still vividly picture the malicious smiles on their faces, hear the screams of Cara and Noah.

He nodded and clenched his jaw. "Yeah."

"You deal with the witch I'll deal with the little devils?"

Dean nodded numbly, unable to look away from the boys. "Sounds good."

* * *

After an anonymous phone call was made to the house, the bodies of Tyler and Jason Hanratty were found, along with Jacelyn Quorson, who was believed to be the serial killer. The police made some convoluted connection between Jacie and the Hanratty boys.

Dean had dropped Jan off at her house. Parked in front of the brick brownstone, Jan continued to sit in the car.

"You forgetting something?" Dean asked, hands on the steering wheel, like he was about to zoom away.

"You know nothing will happen to Alice and the kids."

"I know that."

"I know this was a hard case for you, Dean."

He shrugged. "It is what it is."

Jan waited for him to elaborate, but decided he wasn't going to. She sighed and reached for the handle of the door.

"I keep picturing Cara and Noah as those kids."

She let go of the handle. "What?"

"All I can see in my head is Cara and Noah with their arms out wide, mouths open, blood everywhere…it was too close for comfort that was almost them."

Jan nodded, but remained silent. "But they're fine. Because of you."

But Dean was already shaking his head. "No. Not because of me. _I_ put them in danger."

"Don't blame yourself. Those demons were after me. It was nothing to do with you."

"My dad was the one who got them on my tail. And I led them straight to you."

"That was more than eight years ago. You think I'm still bitter. That I was _ever_ bitter about that?"

"It doesn't matter. Because no matter what, they'll never be safe."

"What are you saying, Dean?"

Blinking rapidly, he stared at the road in front of him. In the stationary car, he felt the urge to drive fast and far away from this place as possible. "I'm saying they're better off without me."

"Dean-"

"All I can see is what could've happened, Jan. I can't let it happen again. I know Alice may hate me, but she's better off without me." She had already told him to leave, so all Dean had to do was stay away.

"I don't think-"

"Jan, please. I put them in danger. I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted."

Silent, Jan nodded once. "Okay. Take the time you need. We'll be here. Thanks for the ride."

Once Jan was out of the car, Dean quickly zoomed down the street, away from Jan, even further away from Alice and his kids.

But things were better this way. By Dean staying far away, he could make sure Cara and Noah never turned into screaming angels.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	20. Patchwork Heart

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Patchwork Heart**

* * *

 **April 2005**

* * *

Feet kicked up on the table, Dean alternated between taking bites of pizza and cleaning his pearlized Colt M1911A1, while intently watching his favorite Spanish soap opera, _De un Corazón_ -a guilty pleasure. But, probably not the best idea, as Dean's mouth tasted like weapon's cleaner and the handle of his gun had pizza grease all over it. Sighing, when the gun was only getting dirtier, he clomped his feet back on the floor and rubbed both hands on the front of his shirt. Long, greasy stains became visible on the white undershirt.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered when there was still residue on his hands. Fumbling around for a napkin, closest thing he could find was the rag used to wipe down the gun after cleaning it. "Fucking fantastic," Dean muttered further.

Irritated, Dean stood and went into the bathroom, effectively destroying the mossy green hand towel hanging up on the hook on the back of the door. It wasn't a big deal, as the motel room towel already looked and felt like moldy cardboard anyways.

When he was done, Dean threw the towel into the trash and stared at the mess he had made on the table, contemplating it.

Scoffing, Dean huffed and threw himself down on the bed. _De un Corazón_ had just ended. There was no beer left. He flipped off the TV and settled back against the pillows.

Half dozing off, Dean awoke to John Winchester entering the room. Expecting his father to be drunk, Dean was surprised when John moved around quickly and deliberately, much sharper than he would be if inebriated. Dean recognized how urgently his father began to throw all of his things in his back. John didn't even say anything about the mess Dean had made.

Dean knew what was coming.

"I've got a lead."

"Great. When do we leave?"

"Just me. I'll take this one alone."

Dean sat up, frowning. He'd been hunting with his father for the better part of the year. Before that, he was fine with John and him going their separate ways. But since he'd had a falling out with _her_ over a year ago, Dean was content to hunt with his father. And that's how it had been for nearly a year and half.

"Maybe I should come with."

"I've got this one."

"But there aren't any other leads _anywhere_." It was true. The country seemed eerily quiet.

"I'm sure you'll find something, Dean."

"Yes sir," Dean said, when he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere. Arguing with John Winchester never went anywhere well.

"Good. I'll call you in a few weeks. If there's no cases, maybe try to enjoy yourself for a little bit."

 _Enjoy himself?_ When had John ever wanted Dean to relax and take a break?

"You too, Dad. Don't work yourself too hard."

Not saying anything, John held up his hand in farewell while exiting the room.

Although it was a more amicable departure, there was no one left for Dean once again.

It had been nearly four years since Sammy had left, and Dean had grown accustomed to being with just his father. He didn't expect he'd see his brother any time soon, and since it had been so long, he didn't think about him much anymore.

But, _she_ was another matter. It had been over a year, but it hurt to even think her name. It hurt more than when he left the first time. Back then, there had only been an inkling, but now, Dean thought about her more than he cared to admit, even to himself. He couldn't stand to think about her.

And his kids. It was different from her, because he couldn't stop thinking about them. It didn't hurt to because he figured they were safer without him. Thinking about them actually gave him some level of comfort. But to dispel that feeling, purposely, he kept replaying Cara's face as she turned and walked away from him for the last time. He thought how Noah must've felt, coming home to find his father gone. Noah never got a goodbye.

Not able to help the feeling of emptiness, Dean picked up his phone and called one of the numbers on speed dial.

"If this is that smart ass teenager, you better hang up the phone before I find you and blow your nuts off. I can trace this call in under a minute so you if you know what's good for you-"

"Bobby, it's Dean."

The old man stopped. "Oh. Thought you were some pimply-faced hunter's kid. He thinks it's funny to mess with me. I helped out his parents last week. And I don't care if he's only sixteen-"

Dean couldn't help but laugh. That must've been a stupid kid if he thought messing with Bobby Singer was funny.

"Enough about _that_ idjit. How you doing, boy?"

"Pretty good. I was just calling to see if you had any leads on any hunts? Dad just left for a solo hunt and I'm trying to find one."

"Gimme a minute." Dean listened to the sound of rustling paper, and a bang, followed by a swear.

Bobby was still cursing when he returned to the phone. " _Balls._ Goddamn table leg came outta nowhere. Sorry boy. It's quiet on the home front right now."

"Alright...you don't mind if I stop by to try and scope out a hunt, just to be safe?"

There was a pause. "You questioning my hunting skills?"

"No sir I-"

"Don't beat around the bush. You know you never have to ask if you can come over; you're always welcome here."

"It's just-"

"You don't have to pretend with me, Dean."

Dean let down his guard. "Okay, Bobby. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Keep a cold one on ice for me."

"Will do."

* * *

Dean announced his presence has he walked through the front door. He dropped his bags by the door and called for the older man. "Bobby? I got a six pack!"

There was no response.

Emerging into the kitchen, Dean was stunned at the sight he saw.

Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table, a heaping plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of him. He was shoveling the noodles into his mouth with vigor. A pleasant smell wafted throughout the entire kitchen.

The clean, aromatic kitchen wasn't the most surprising part.

For standing next to the stove in a frilly apron was none other than Janet Sutton.

Dean cautiously set the six pack on the counter and made his way into the center of the kitchen, trying to determine if this was real. "Jan?"

She smirked and waved a wooden spoon at him.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked.

Bobby whipped his napkin at Dean. "Don't be rude, boy. She's a guest."

"I just...I didn't know you two even knew each other."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"But you told me you didn't know who she was."

"That was over ten years ago, boy."

Dean shut his mouth. "Right. Yeah." He awkwardly stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Have some spaghetti." Jan shoved a bowl into Dean's hand and pushed him towards the table. He slowly sat down and took a tentative bite. It was pretty good.

"How is it?" Jan asked.

"Good. Really good."

"Good. In that case." Jan came up behind Dean and smacked him across the back of the head with the wooden spoon.

"Ow!" He yelled, bending down, covering the back of his head.

"I should bludgeon you with this!" Jan yelled, hitting him again.

Dean quickly scrambled across the kitchen and held up his hands, placatingly. "Look-"

Jan cornered him, brandishing the spoon. "I thought you were _dead._ You haven't been to see Alice, haven't called her. And you've been avoiding _my_ calls. Do you know how many networks I had to go through to find out you were just _alive?!_ Do you know how worried I've been?"

She was worried about _him?_ "Look, I know it's been awhile-"

" _Awhile?_ Awhile is a couple weeks. Not eighteen months!"

Dean dropped his hands in shame. He couldn't believe it had been that long. But it had been. "You said I could take my time," he muttered pathetically.

"I didn't think that meant indefinitely! You know Allie's a mess, in case you were wondering. The kids miss you. They're not better off without you."

"They're safer without me."

" _I_ put them in danger, too! They're safer _with_ you, Dean!"

He looked over at Bobby. "Did you plan this?"

The older man stood. "Think of it as an intervention."

"I don't-"

"Dean Winchester. Shut up. Look, I've been on this Earth for a little while now and I am telling you I know a little something about family. No matter how big of a pain in the ass they- _you-_ are, or how much pain they cause you, the uncertainty is worth it."

"Dean," Bobby said, "Alice is one a kind. You don't let a girl like that get away."

Dean opened his mouth to talk, but Jan cut him off.

She waved the wooden spoon in his face. "Alice's birthday is in two days. You better haul ass over there and beg on your knees for her to take you back."

He stood there, afraid to move.

Jan threatened him with the spoon again. "I mean right now."

He stared looked back at the bowl of spaghetti on the table, not knowing what else to say. "Can't I eat first?"

Jan smacked his arm with the spoon. "Get some gas station jerky on the way there."

Dean turned to look at Bobby for help.

The older man shrugged and put his hands up, keeping silent, well aware he didn't want to cross a woman like Janet Sutton.

Jan poked him with the spoon. "Go. Or I'll key the paint job on that gaudy car."

"Alright, alright. I'm going. Good luck with this one Bobby."

"No, good luck to _you,_ boy," Bobby said a bit gravely.

That caused Dean to swallow, watching as Jan slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Sure enough, two days later Dean awkwardly stood on the doorstep of the gray brick home he hadn't seen in over a year. Feeling like a dorky teenager waiting for his date to prom, Dean adjusted the gifts in his hand and weakly ran the doorbell. It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and he knew the kids would be at school, but he was also hoping she would be working so he could have an excuse to buy himself some more time.

He waited, feeling a bit relieved when he thought no one was home. However, when he saw a shadow move through the window on the door, Dean knew he couldn't run anymore.

And even if he could, he doubted he would've been able to get his feet to move.

The door swung open, and Alice, half paying attention nearly fell forward when she saw who was standing there.

She didn't look like it was her birthday. She wore an oversized t shirt and plaid house pants. Her hair was thrown back in a messy braid. There were severe dark purple bags under her eyes. She looked pale and sickly.

Dean lurched inwardly. He remember feeling the same kind of icy panic when he saw her after hunting her down in Chicago. He'd thought she was ill then. But comparing that to now, she looked positively downtrodden.

But _oh God_ it was _her._ Dean felt himself staring at her face, which showed a blank expression. The void look in her eyes indicated she couldn't even begin to process what was in front of her right now.

Bashfully raising his hand, the door was quickly slammed shut in his face before he could even breathe.

It didn't surprise him, and part of Dean wanted to turn around and walk away. But the pit in his stomach that had been there for eighteen months chasmed a bit more. It was the emptiness that no amount of alcohol or some easy redhead could fill.

Growling and grinding his teeth, Dean tried the doorknob to find it was locked. Fumbling for his keys, Dean swore while he tried to find the right key. When he did, he jammed it in the lock and forced his way into the house.

While walking through the house looking for her, all that was heard were Dean's heavy footfalls. He felt like he was a predator. He felt like he was hunting a monster.

He could tell she was afraid.

If he were smart, Dean would've called out to her, to let her know it was okay. But he couldn't stand to say her name aloud.

Just as he was about to go to the second floor, Dean paused when he saw her. Through the sliding glass door in the kitchen, Dean could see her in the backyard. She sat on a swing, bare feet trailing in the dirt. She was looking down at the ground.

Shutting the door behind himself, Dean descended the few patio steps and slowly crossed the yard to the swing set.

"Happy Birthday," he managed weakly, immediately hating himself for that being his opening line.

She continued to stare at the ground.

"I got you some presents," he continued lamely, not sure how to address the year and a half gap of missing time. He presented the gifts. In one hand was a bouquet of yellow flowers. They were daisies, according to the lady at the store. In the other hand was a book.

With both hands thrust in front of him, Alice thawed a bit and numbly reached for the presents. She set the book in her lap and examined the flowers first. She gently touched the petal of one and then quickly retracted her hand. She laid them on the wooden platform beside herself.

Next, Alice picked the book off her lap and turned it around in her hands. The pads of her fingers ran over the gold words. Fanning the book open, Alice flipped to a page. "'What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.'"

"I remembered you really liked that book."

Alice stared down the cover of _King Lear._ It had been the book she was reading when Dean first introduced himself. She carefully set it beside the flowers. She was surprised he remembered that.

When he didn't get any more of a response, Dean lowered himself into the swing beside her and kicked back and forth a bit. He gripped his hands around the rope. It was the only thing anchoring him here right now.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, after a swell in silence. He noticed Alice bow her head and squeeze her eyes shut tightly.

He had done this to her.

He had broken her heart, even though she said he wasn't able to do such a thing.

"Maybe if I keep my eyes shut long enough, you'll be gone when I open them," she whispered carefully, lips hardly moving.

That was it. That was Dean's last chance to escape before anything escalated. He could quietly let himself out through the gate. All that would be left would be a book and flowers.

"I can't leave." Cause if he did, there was no way he could come back.

Alice sighed, eyes still closed. "I never told you to stay away, you know."

"I know. I was an idiot."

"Yeah."

Feeling a small bit of hope, Dean turned to look at Alice. As if feeling his gaze, Alice slowly turned to look at him, opening her eyes. There were tears in the corners. She wiped them away when she noticed him staring. "I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"I don't know, either. I don't know what I'm doing, Allie."

With that, Dean's entire earth shattered. It had been over a year that he'd said her name out loud.

Words had power. Whoever thought they didn't was kidding themselves.

"I should've come back. I shouldn't have left you like that."

"You have no idea what that did to them, Dean."

He swallowed, feeling the words like a kick to the teeth.

"They act like ghosts. Cara won't even say your name. She's so closed off. Noah thinks he can fix everything if he's good enough, if he tries enough.

"And me? God I don't even know. Maybe my mother was right."

He didn't bother to ask exactly Alice was referring to, as he figured he didn't want to know. He had only formally met her mother one time, and it had been a sordid few minutes. He didn't put much stock in anything Sherry Mercer had to say.

"I'm so sorry. I really don't know any other way to say it."

Alice studied him. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"No. I don't think you did." She leaned forward and squinted at his face. "You don't sound at all sincere. Who put you up to this? Was it Janet? God, I told her to stay out of my business-" Like a spring coiled, Alice launched off the swing and furiously stomped towards the sliding glass door, arms swinging viciously at her sides.

"She's only doing what's best for you." Dean instinctively reached forward and grabbed her arm that went for the door handle.

Electrified, Alice immediately pulled her hand away from Dean but didn't make a move to go into the house. She felt like a guarded high schooler again, wondering if Dean had been dared to come up and talk to her. If it was all a prank.

If it was still a prank.

It sure felt like one.

But this time, Alice didn't just have her own heart to guard. There were two tiny, growing-easily breakable-hearts that depended on her for protection.

And she had no idea what to do, right then.

"You understand I have to do what's best for Cara and Noah."

Dean's lips tightened at that, not liking the suggestion that he wasn't aware of that. _That_ had been why he left. "I know," he said, tonelessly.

She silently regarded him, fully looking at the man who had broken her heart twice. The one she allowed back in her life. "You've already left me twice, Dean."

"Then tell me to go. I won't come back if you don't want me to." The part of himself he hated wished she would tell him to go away and never come back. He had been hung on this one woman for over ten years and he couldn't really say any longer he would never stick to one woman. It was a naive thing to think. But maybe _maybe_ if Alice said she didn't want him, Dean could go back to being what everyone thought he was. He could finally stop feeling a prick in his heart whenever he thought of her face or whispered her name.

Opening her mouth as if to banish him, Alice licked her lips, but paused. She stared at him for a moment, but then looked back to the book and flowers he had brought her.

Although it hurt every time he left, there was a reason he kept coming back.

She shut her mouth.

Dean stared at her with intense, wide eyes, feeling a shift in her demeanor. Perhaps she was a bit more cautious than she had been before, but the slump in her shoulders seemed to be more out of comfort than resignation.

"Why don't you come inside?" She asked quietly.

He agreed, quickly retrieving the forgotten presents sitting forlornly on the swingset.

Once the door was shut behind the two of them, he felt like he was a in a cage underwater, a shark pointing its nose between the bars.

But Alice was no predator. The way she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the other side of the kitchen was every indicator Dean was the shark.

He didn't think of himself of a particularly intimidating person during a normal situation. Sure, he could be when he wanted, but right now, he was trying to be extra careful.

"How've you been?" It was a terrible thing to ask, but he would do anything to fill the silence.

She scoffed. "Over the past year? Which of the hundreds of days do you want to know how I've been? Pick one."

"Today."

She swallowed loudly. "Blindsided." She felt like she had the first day he left. "And _you?"_

Dean shrugged. "Trying to find distractions, I guess," he admitted. That was the most honest he'd been with her in this entire, awkward encounter. "Not just today, though."

Her jaw popped out of place. There was a sharp stinging in her eyes. She wasn't particularly excited to spend her birthday alone when she woke up this morning, but she figured she would've been able to get through the day feeling relatively okay.

But this wasn't supposed to happen today.

Of course, being the romantic she was deep down, Alice allowed a small part of herself to fantasize what would happen if Dean were to show up. Sure, she got her hopes up every morning and at the end of every day when he didn't show up they were dashed. But she expected that.

And today of all days, she had been hoping a little bit more than she should've. Rationally, she knew if Dean were to show up, it would've been on a random day. Not her birthday.

She'd been wanting this. This was what she wanted. In her head, she told herself she would've allowed a reconciliation with Dean when he did come around.

But now, she couldn't find the words.

As crappy as the past year and a half had been, Alice had finally found some sense of rhythm and security. Dean was gone and she was finally learning how to be a mother without waiting for him to show up or even call her. In his absence, she'd become a damn good mother, something she was finally confident and proud enough to say.

It seemed like the ripples were finally easing.

"You have to know how much you hurt me, Dean. Even the first time when we were teenagers. I found out I was pregnant and I was trying to figure out how I was gonna tell you about this baby. But then your brother told me you were leaving town and I realized I wasn't gonna be able to tell you. I wouldn't.

"That day in the diner, I was sitting there, thinking about what I was gonna do with my life. But I had already figured that you wouldn't be in it."

"I never stopped thinking about you."

Alice allowed that. "I know. I mean, you found me after a year and a half. Isn't it funny how our time apart plays out in the same interval?" This current situation was very much like Dean finding Alice at Jan's for the first time.

Dean hadn't realized the significance in time. "I hadn't noticed."

"I did. As soon as I opened that door."

"You always noticed the small details like that."

She frowned. "If... _if_ we decide to do something about this, then it can't be like the way it was before."

Dean' eyes widened. "You mean…"

"I'm different now. I have confidence in myself. I know what I'm supposed to do as a mother."

"And what about as a woman?"

Alice bit her lip and Dean felt something stir in his stomach. "I doubt I'll ever know," she muttered. It wasn't meant to be coquettish, but Dean inwardly groaned at the effect in had on him.

"Do you know what you do to me?" The words just slipped out. In his carnal daze, Dean's brain flew out the window.

"Excuse me?" Alice asked, surprised, unaware of the effect she had on the man in front of her.

Dean felt himself moving forward. Spooked, Alice began to back away from him. "What are you doing?"

"I need...I need to touch you." He raised a hand in front of him, which hung about three feet in front of Alice.

"What about how I needed you to for the last year and a half?"

"Let me make it up to you." Dean seemed to be currently be on autopilot. His hovering hand moved a bit closer.

Arm shooting out, Alice grabbed Dean's wrist and pushed it down to his side.

"You can't tell me you don't want to."

"We're not any different if we do it."

"Different than who?"

Frustrated, Alice tugged her hands through her hair, only to remember it was in a braid. Irritated it made her look ridiculous, she quickly removed her hands. "We can't go back to the way we used to be."

Smirking, Dean took a step towards Alice.

She took one back.

He took another step.

"Stop," she said, breath shaky. "Dean, I mean it."

"Then tell me to leave."

"I never said not to come back, you know. You're the one who decided not to," Alice snapped, quickly turning the knife back on him. Taking the depressurizing in the air, Alice slipped past Dean to the other side of the counter, a solid slab of granite in front of them. She gripped the edges of it.

"I thought I was doing what was best."

Alice knew that was all she had ever asked out of Dean, but she couldn't seem to make herself agree that him leaving out of the blue and leaving nothing but silence for over a year was the best thing he could've done.

"It wasn't the best."

"I can see that now."

"Can you? Or are you just saying that, Dean?"

"I mean it. I really do."

"How are you gonna prove that?"

"Let me make it up to you," Dean repeated.

Still, she was shaking her head, but felt her resolve slowly chipping away. It was amazing, after so many months, she thought she had built up a quite strong wall. But here it was, apparently named Jericho.

"We can pretend like none of this ever happened. Or we can start over. Whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want."

Bogged down by the weight of the decision, Alice shrugged numbly. "I don't know."

Dean nodded, trying to swallow that pill. He couldn't seem to think of anything else to say. It seemed like the only thing left for him to do was stand there and stare at her until she made up her mind.

"Do you need time to think?" He asked.

Alice nodded a bit numbly. "I think so." She paused and thought for a moment. "Why don't you come back this time tomorrow?" Feeling an electric ball of energy in her core, Alice tried to calm herself down.

"Tomorrow," Dean said slowly. He nodded in agreement. "I'll let myself out."

"Great."

"Happy Birthday."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Once the front door slammed, Alice had to ask herself if that had just happened. Maybe it was a crazy dream where she didn't have two kids, or a man who left her for a year, and was actually just a teenager sleeping in her narrow twin bed in Nebraska.

But the book and flowers sitting on the counter, almost mockingly, assured today was in fact her birthday and she had two children who were at school right now.

Animating, Alice ceremonially left the kitchen and went upstairs to her room. She stared at her messy appearance in the mirror. Tutting in distaste, she suddenly felt mortified that this was how Dean saw her for the first time in over a year. She tried to convince herself it didn't matter, but she didn't believe it.

Not impressed that was her first thought to her appearance, Alice threw on a pair jeans and a button up shirt. She brushed her hair and put on mascara. It wasn't anything special, but certainly she at least looked ready to walk around in the world.

Eventually she got into her white Nissan and backed out of the garage. Mind on autopilot, she navigated through the quaint town, eventually pulling into the parking lot of a small brick building.

After being buzzed into the building, Alice stepped into the small, colorfully decorated office and waited for a few minutes until the secretary finally acknowledged her existence.

"Can I help you?" The woman asked, a bit irritated someone had interrupted her.

Alice wanted to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, but she wasn't doing anything else except playing Minesweeper on the computer while downing nearly a gallon of coffee.

"Yeah. I wanted to sign my kids out of school. Cara and Noah Mercer? Cara's in fourth grade and Noah's in second."

"And what's the reason for signing them out?"

Alice sighed inwardly. "They have a dentist appointment."

"You know," the secretary began, "You really should have sent a note with them or called ahead this morning."

Alice had always been a rule follower her entire life. She never questioned authority. Hated it. Even though this woman wasn't technically authority. "Why does it matter?"

"Because it does." The secretary's pen clicked.

"Next time I'll be sure to do that."

"Right." Just as Alice wanted to snap at the woman, the secretary went ahead and called over the intercom for Cara and Noah.

Alice waited on a bench outside the office for the kids.

Cara was the first to appear. She smiled slightly seeing her mother. "Why did you call us out? I didn't know we had a dentist appointment." she asked, a bit skeptically.

Alice smiled carefully. "I lied. It's my birthday. Thought we could make it a fun day."

"Sounds better than school."

Noah appeared a few seconds later, excitedly running down the hallway. It didn't matter the reason. He was being signed out of school. He was happy.

"Great timing, Mom! We just got back from recess and was gonna start math!" He didn't seem very surprised she had called them out, or even concerned of the sudden dentist appointment he thought they were going to.

"Glad I could help," Alice offered lamely. Her guilt was palpable. She felt like they could see right through her facade, like they could read her mind. She had to remind herself they didn't know Dean had stopped by the house.

About twenty minutes later, the trio was in a small family owned restaurant a couple towns over. Alice and Noah sat on one side of the both while Cara sat across from them. Cara had ordered the mac and cheese while Noah got a burger and fries. Alice got a salad and the three split two pieces of chocolate cake for dessert.

"Mom, can you believe I'm gonna be ten in a few months?" Cara asked, around a bite of cake. She wasn't smiling, but was watching carefully for Alice's reaction. "I'll be in the double digits, just like you."

For some reason, that caused Alice to feel a seed of panic. She knew Cara's birthday was coming up in a few months. But how was she going to mother a ten year old? That was basically a teenager, right? She was only equipped to deal with a nine year old and an eight year old. Each year they aged Alice felt a sting of uncertainty. It was the fact she was pretty much raising them on her own, coupled with the fact she had only been a teenager when she had both of them. It still didn't seem right that she had two kids. She was confident in her abilities as a mother, but she was still plagued with fear for the future.

She just hoped they wouldn't be like her or their father.

What crappy role models Cara and Noah had gotten.

"No. I can't believe it. You two are getting so old. I can't believe how quickly time has gone by."

"I don't think it's going by that fast," Noah chirped, scarfing down the rest of the one of the pieces of cake.

"Daddy!" A high pitched shriek interrupted the end of the meal. All three involuntarily looked up towards the sound of the noise. They watched as a girl-probably not any older than four-ran towards a man with his arms outstretched to her. He lifted her up in his arms, the little girl giggling. The man planted a big kiss on her cheek as the little girl squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Cara was the first one to turn around, snapping her head back to the cake crumbs on the plate. She began smashing them with her fork, pretending she hadn't seen the father and daughter.

Noah's gaze lingered a little longer, watching until the pair had disappeared out the doors of the restaurant.

Alice's attention focused back to her kids, and she watched how they reacted. She saw a mask slam itself over Cara's face, while a cloud of sadness poured down on Noah.

The mood was effectively ruined-at least for Alice. She didn't know what Cara and Noah were thinking, but they seemed to have sobered at the sight.

Had they always been like that? Alice tried to remember other situations in which they saw a father with his children. She had been careful not to mention Dean unless Noah inexplicably asked. Maybe she hadn't thought to scrutinize their reactions as much.

But now, she could plainly see how glum that had become so quickly. But she knew she hadn't done that to them. He had. Their father had. She didn't know his intentions or what he was thinking when he left, but she had been so sure that he'd come back, or at the least pick up the damn phone. It seemed that immediately after that, Cara didn't think he was ever going to come back. For the first few months, Alice tried to assure her Dean would return soon. But at the six month mark with no word from him, Alice began to have her doubts, just like her daughter. And lo and behold, Cara had been right.

And then there was Noah. He refused to believe Dean had left them. He knew Dean would come back, even if it took years. Noah believed he could bring his father back if he tried hard enough.

He would, Alice realized. She gave a small intake of breath when she finally admitted to herself they were better off with Dean. It didn't take much to fully convince herself. She'd done a pretty crappy job convincing herself they didn't need him. Although she had grown much more as a mother, she still needed him. And so did Cara and Noah.

That was it, Alice decided.

Dean was coming home.

 **BREAK**

This time yesterday she had been moping around on her birthday, dressed like she was ill. And now, here she was, feeling a lot fresher than she had in months. Revived, Alice had dressed herself in her nicest jeans, with a cardigan over a tank top. She curled her hair a little bit and put on some light lipstick.

Standing in the vanity in the corner of her room, Alice slipped on a pair of cork wedges, which elevated her about three inches in height. She turned a couple times in the mirror, frowning. Sliding them off, she then laced up a pair of canvas sneakers and twirled once again.

"Better," she murmured, nodding at her reflection. The wedges were too fancy. She didn't want to make it seem like she was trying too hard. Although, compared to how Dean saw her yesterday, anything past flannel pants and unwashed hair was trying too hard.

The ring of the doorbell made Alice's heart flutter. She smoothed her hair once last time, puckered her lips to make sure the lipstick was still intact. Giving a little skip, she ran to the top of the stairs and then visibly composed herself, trying to walk down the stairs at a steady pace.

She took a deep breath and pulled open the door, actually surprised by what she saw.

Dean stood there, wearing a button up-not flannel-that was much nicer than she had ever seen him in. His hair was combed nicely and in one hand was another bouquet of flowers. This time, they were purple flowers in bunches.

"The florist said they were hyacinths. Said they were good for apologizing. I thought you'd like the metaphor."

She felt herself covering a smile and took them softly. "Thank you," she whispered. "Please, come in."

Dean followed her into the kitchen, where she found another vase and set them beside the yellow daisies. He took a seat at the counter and self-consciously scooted the chair forward, wincing when it screeched across the wood.

"I have coffee," Alice said. She slid him a mug of black coffee before he could say no. At least it gave his hands something to hold onto.

"Thanks," he said, quietly.

Alice nodded, sipping her own mug, leaning forward against the counter. Dean noticed today her body language was much more open. "So..." she began.

"I'm sorry," Dean suddenly blurted. "I've had time to think about how I acted. Like a total asshole. I shouldn't have made a move on you. It was a douchey thing to do when you were caught off guard.

"But I've had time to think."

"Me too."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. "This past year I've tried really hard not to think about you. I tried to convince myself you were better off without me. That you didn't want me around.

"I was dumb, Allie. I was so dumb. I can't believe how stupid I was.

"I'm sorry I broke your heart. I'm just hoping I can help you patch it back together."

Alice hadn't needed to hear any of that. Sometime in the night, she had come to the conclusion Dean was just doing the best he could. Although she may not have agreed with his choice, it was still his choice. He had Cara and Noah's best interests in mind. That was what mattered.

Abandoning her cup, Alice came over to stand by Dean. He had his eyes shut, looking down at the counter. She gently placed a hand on the back of his neck, underneath the ironed collar of his shirt.

Glancing up in surprise, Dean made eye contact with her, mouth open in shock.

Smiling softly, she tucked her hair behind one ear before leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. He responded eagerly but gently, placing a hand on the side of her face.

"I've had time to think to," Alice said, pulling a couple inches away. "I forgive you."

With a sigh of relief, Dean wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her towards him. "We'll be different this time, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that," she responded jokingly, before bringing her lips back to his.

* * *

The old school bell rang and about twenty seconds later, children came streaming out of the building. Some ran towards buses, others ran towards the playground, while others ran towards the crosswalks to go home.

Noah emerged before his sister, with clear instructions from his mother that she would pick them up that day. He smirked at the bus, glad he didn't have to ride it again.

"Noah, you wanna play kickball?" Tommy Cavhill yelled from the playground. He held a ball in both hands. There were several other boys that stood around, waiting for his answer.

"Can't! My ride's waiting for me!" Noah yelled back, waving to the boys as he walked past the playground. Mom said she'd pick them up at the corner, so he was expecting to see her white car.

Noah froze in his tracks when he saw a car he was not expecting to see.

A black Impala was parked where Mom's car should've been. A man he hadn't seen in a long time leaned against it.

"Dad?" He whispered lowly. Noah blinked several times to make sure it was real.

In a trance, Noah began to walk towards his father, vaguely aware of the boys from the playground yelling at him to come play kickball with them.

"You know to look both ways before crossing the street," Dean chastised when Noah walked up to him, staring straight ahead, not bothering to look both ways before crossing the street. Dean immediately wondered if he should've said that. Did he even have the right to tell Noah what to do after so much time?

"Dad," Noah said, evidently not hearing Dean's warning.

"Yeah, it's me." Dean crouched down so he was level with his son.

"I can't believe you're actually here." Noah sounded in awe, which Dean supposed was a good sign.

"I'm sorry it's been so long, Noah."

"I knew you'd come back. Mom and Cara both said you wouldn't. But I knew you would."

Dean felt a pang of guilt. "I'm here now. I promise I won't do that again."

"I'm glad you're here." Noah slowly wrapped his arms around Dean.

Wrapping his arms tightly around his son, Dean clenched his eyes shut and held onto Noah tightly. He couldn't believe he had willingly given this up for so long.

"What? No." The voice was faint, but Dean recognized it. Opening his eyes, over Noah's shoulder, Dean saw Cara standing at the opposite corner, staring in disbelief.

Releasing Noah, Dean stood up and took a step in the road, towards his daughter.

Cara took a step back. "Noah, where's Mom?" she asked nervously.

"Your mother told me to pick you up," Dean said.

She shook her head. "No. Mom said she would pick us up. Where's Mom?"

"Dad's driving us home."

She kept shaking her head. "No. Mom said she'd be here."

"Cara, it's okay. It's Dad," Noah assured, taking a step ahead of Dean.

Her head was vibrating back and forth so fast, her vision was blurring. She felt like she was going to be sick. "No. I don't know you. Mom always said to never get in a car with strangers."

Noah couldn't believe his sister. "Care, it's Dad. He's not a stranger."

"Cara, come on," Dean managed softly. "It's okay. I'm sorry for everything, but it'll be okay."

"Where's Mom?" Cara whispered again.

"She's at home. She's waiting for us at home."

Not believing him, Cara stumbled a few steps into the chain link fence that bordered the playground. "Cara, it'll be okay. Just get in the car and we'll go home."

Her hands wound around the lattice pattern. "No. I'm not getting in the car with you."

"What are you doing?" Cara turned her head to see Kyle Lahey, from her class, standing on the other side of the fence. There was a comic book in one of his hands.

"Nothing," she said.

"Who's that?" Kyle asked, using the comic book as a pointer towards Dean.

"It's our dad," Noah responded, coming to stand next to Cara. He tried to pry her hands off the fence, but her grip was too strong.

Kyle frowned. "But you told the entire class you don't have a dad."

"I don't."

"She's being stupid. Of course we have a dad," Noah told Kyle. "Everyone has a Dad."

"I don't know him. I don't know him!" Cara said a little louder.

"Cara, shut up! You're gonna make a scene!" Noah said, grabbing her by the arm to shake her.

"Should I get a teacher?" Kyle asked, unsure. He edged away from Cara.

"No! Don't do anything, Kyle! Cara's just being a drama queen."

"You sure?"

Noah gave an aggravated sigh, "Kyle if you don't walk away and keep this to yourself, I'm gonna tear up all your comic books. I know you have a whole stack of them in your desk."

Kyle gaped. "How do you know that?"

"I just do. If you don't go away I'll make sure everyone does."

Clutching the magazine to his chest, Kyle darted away, leaving the trio alone.

"Cara, please just come with me," Dean coaxed. "Please. You know me. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you or your brother."

"You already did!" Cara snapped back.

"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

"I want Mom!" She was shaking and hyperventilating now.

Dean took a step back to give her space. He took Noah by the arm and backed his son up as well. "Give her a few minutes."

Noah shook his head. "What's the big deal?" He asked his sister. "It's Dad!"

Seeing she had more space, Cara finally detached herself from the fence and slowly began backing herself away from them, back towards the school. "I'm not getting in that car. I'm taking the bus home!" Suddenly, Cara turned and began sprinting towards the bus.

Noah ran a few steps after her. "Cara! What are you doing?"

"It's okay, No. Let her go. We'll see her at home."

Frustrated, Noah stared after his sister a minute before turning back to his father. "What's wrong with her?"

"There's nothing wrong with her, buddy."

Noah shook his head. "I'll never understand girls."

"Me either, buddy, me either."

Dean waited a few minutes, and squinted, making sure Cara actually got on the bus. When she did, he unlocked the door to the Impala.

"Can I sit shotgun?" Noah asked bashfully?

Dean frowned at his son, figuring Alice never let him sit in the front seat. He owed the kid so much. "Sure. Just don't tell your mom. Why don't you try it out? I'm gonna call Mom."

Once Noah had slammed the passenger door and was happily bouncing up and down in the seat, Dean pulled out his phone.

"Uh-oh," Alice answered. "What's wrong?"

Dean scratched the back of his head. "I've got Noah, but Cara decided she wanted to take the bus home. I made sure she got on. You may just want to wait at the stop to make sure she gets off."

Alice sighed. "I knew something like this would happen. Okay. I'll be there. How's Noah?"

Dean peered into the window, smiling at how excited Noah was. At least one of his kids as happy. "Happy as a clam."

Alice laughed. "I'm glad. I'll see you at home. Love you."

"Love you too."

Once he was settled in the driver's seat, Dean reached over and messed up Noah's hair. "Let's go home. What do you say?"

"Hell yeah!"

* * *

Alice nervously wrung out her hands as the bus approached the stop. She knew Cara would be mortified that her mother was waiting at the stop for her. But she was more worried about how Cara had reacted to seeing Dean. Alice internally beat herself up, knowing she should've told Cara in advance. She didn't know why she thought surprising her daughter would be a good idea.

 _Stupid stupid stupid,_ she thought when the doors to the bus open and Cara stepped off, jerking when she saw her mother standing there.

Head down, Cara slowly walked up to her mother. "Dad showed up at school today."

Alice sighed. "I told him to. He wanted to pick you guys up."

"He wasn't gonna come back."

"I'm sorry, honey. But he came back. He really is sorry. We'll explain everything, I swear."

"When did he come back?"

"Yesterday."

"Is that why you pulled us out of school? I knew you wouldn't do that for your birthday."

"Cara mia...I'm so sorry. Can we go home?"

Still looking at the ground, Cara nodded. As the two were walking, Cara shoved her hand into Alice's.

The mother immediately knew how upset Cara was. Never did she let her mother hold hands with her anymore. She was too old for that.

"It's okay," Alice assured quietly, squeezing Cara's hand. "Let's go home."

"Okay," Cara muttered.

* * *

When Alice and Cara made it back to the house, Noah and Dean were waiting in the kitchen. Cara took one glance down the hall at her father before wrenching her hand out of Alice's. She ran up the stairs. A few seconds later there was a door slam.

Alice deflated and walked into the kitchen.

"Why is she acting like that?" Noah asks.

Alice ran a hand through her son's hair affectionately. "You remember how hard she took it when Dad left? It's a lot all at once."

Noah shrugged but let the issue fall.

"Give her time, Dean. We needed some."

Dean nodded, biting his nails.

He didn't know how much time she would need, but he didn't see her coming around anytime soon.

* * *

A few hours later, Cara had declined having dinner, instead opting to stay in her room.

Around eight o'clock, Alice knocked on her door and told her to come downstairs. At the same time, Noah was sent up to his room.

When the siblings passed each other in the hallway, Noah poked his sister in the arm. "You're in trouble!" He sang.

She swatted his hand away. "Shut up!"

Meekly, Cara emerged downstairs and saw both parents sitting on a couch in the living room. Alice silently motioned for her to sit at the other one across from them.

Cara took a seat and clasped her hands together, looking at the ground. She heard her mother sigh.

"You're not in trouble, Cara."

She didn't say anything in response, but dared to look up through her lashes. Look at her mother, at least. "You're not mad?" Cara asked, suspicious that they were trying to trick her.

"No. We're not mad," Alice assured.

Narrowing her eyes, Cara turned her gaze to her father for the first time. She kept her mouth shut, but let the glare speak for itself. Alice noticed and nudged Dean.

"I'm not mad at you," he assured.

"You have every right to be upset and angry at your father and at me, Cara," Alice said.

Cara massaged the palm of her left hand with the right one, nodding along, but staring at the ground. "Okay," she said.

" _But."_ Alice's sudden change in tone caught Cara off guard. She knew she wasn't off the hook yet.

"What?" Cara snapped with a little more malice than she intended to.

"Watch it, young lady." The little girl scowled and crossed her arms. Now they had to be mad at her. "As I was saying, you can be mad at us, but Dad is back. I know it'll take some time to readjust. You can be mad with us, Cara, but you have to be respectful to your father and me."

Growing ever more ticked off, Cara didn't understand how she could be angry with her parents and be respectful at the same time. What was she supposed to do? Scream in a pillow? Count to ten? Write about her feelings in a diary? She felt her lip curling up as her anger began to manifest itself in more physical forms. "That's a bunch of crap," she muttered.

Alice raised both eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Why should I have to be respectful to him? Huh? He's hardly ever here. "

"Cara Clementine, you watch your mouth-"

"Mom! I haven't seen him in over a year! He _left_ us! How can you just pretend like he didn't?"

Dean sat there in silence, biting his lip as Cara pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"Cara, I know it's a shock; I was surprised too. But he's here now."

Cara scoffed. That sentiment meant nothing to her. He left once. Who said he wouldn't do it again? "How do you know he won't leave again?" She demanded.

"Dad promised me."

"And you believe him?"

Alice scooted forward in her seat, feeling a mixture of anger and sadness for her daughter. Cara was only a kid. She had her heartbroken by her own father of all people. "Yes, I do."

Tears were beginning to glisten in Cara's eyes. "Why?"

Mouth agape, Alice scrambled to think of something to say, but Cara quickly picked up on the fact her mother didn't have an answer.

Dean saw this as well. Talking for the first time in awhile, Dean leaned forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. "Cara, I know it's hard for you to understand. But when you're older-"

Feeling like she had been slapped in the face, she sprung up from the couch. "I hate you!" She screeched at her father. "I wish you never came back!"

Already racing towards the stairs, Alice was quick to follow her, but stopped at the bottom, while Cara was already stomping up them. "Cara Clementine-"

"Don't worry, I'm already going to my room," Cara sassily responded, at the top of the stairs now, glaring down at her mother.

"If you slam your door you're grounded for a week!" Alice threatened once Cara disappeared down the hallway. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, breathing heavily, waiting for Cara to challenge her. The entire upstairs shuddered as Cara slammed her door as hard as she could.

"No TV, no computer, nothing but school and chores for a week!" Alice yelled up the stairs, knowing full well Cara could hear her.

Shaking in anger, Alice stared at one of the carpeted steps, wanting nothing more than to stomp on it while screaming. She took several deep breaths and then returned to the living where Dean was still sitting. She sat beside him and leaned into his side. "God, Dean," she muttered, feeling exhausted.

Dean wrapped an arm around her. "She's so angry. I turned her into such an angry person," he realized.

"No. She was a little monster before you left. I think it's just worse now. She usually isn't that bad." To Dean, that still sounded like it was his fault.

"I may be overstepping some bounds, but don't you think you were a little harsh with her?" Dean asked, not wanting to overstep any bounds.

Alice shrugged. "Maybe. But if I don't nip it in the bud, she's going to continue to act like that. And you're not overstepping any bounds. She's your daughter too. I need you to help my with discipline if you see her misbehaving. I know she may be resistant at first with you, but you have to be firm"

Dean gave a shuddering breath. "I feel to guilty to punish her." He just wanted to give her everything she wanted.

"Well don't. Okay? It's unacceptable behavior, regardless of the circumstances."

"She's only a kid, Allie."

"She's a smart kid, Dean. She's knows better than that," Alice insisted.

Relenting, Dean wrapped a more secure arm around Alice and pulled her closer to him. The two lounged on the couch in silence, letting the raw mixture of emotions slowly dissipate. They didn't need to say anything; simply sitting in close proximity of one another was good enough for the both of them. And now-even after all the time that had passed-there was a new level of maturity and comfort that hadn't been there before. Both had grown a great deal over the time apart. There was a small part of each of them that wondered if the separation had been even a little bit positive. But hindsight was twenty-twenty. Now that they were back together, the time apart hadn't seemed like it had been all the bad or all that long.

"This is nice," Dean said.

"Yeah, it's not too bad," Alice responded, smiling a bit.

* * *

Little did the rest of the family know, but Noah had been listening at the top of the stairs to their conversation. When he heard an angry Cara stomping up the stairs, he hurriedly scurried into his room and then shut the door as Cara stomped down the hall to her room. He winced when her heard her slam the door and their mother yell up the stairs after her.

Frozen with one hand on his doorknob, Noah waited several minutes in the silence before turning the knob. He stepped into the hallway and crept to the door that had been slammed moments before.

Noah contemplated knocking, but instead opened the door as quietly as he could. He slipped into Cara's room, and saw her figure completely under her covers. There were soft sniffles coming from underneath the blanket.

Initially, Noah had been mad at Cara that she had yelled at Dad like that, but now he wasn't so sure. He came and stood on the pink shag rug in the middle of the room. "Cara?"

The sniffles abruptly stopped. "Go away," a groggy voice said.

"Did you hear you're grounded?"

"No duh, Captain Obvious. The whole neighborhood heard it."

"Right…" He stared at the pink wall.

"What do you want?"

"Why are you mad at Dad?"

"Noah, seriously? I don't wanna talk about this," the lump under the covers mumbled.

"Seriously, Cara. Why are you mad?"

Throwing the covers off herself, Cara sat up and faced her brother. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were red. "He left us."

Noah shrugged. "He leaves us all the time. What's the big deal?"

She knew he wouldn't understand. Noah hadn't been there when Dad left the last time. He hadn't seen the ugly fight between them. He hadn't seen how their mother cried and told their father to leave. Cara had. But she realized she didn't want Noah to know. It was better her little brother didn't.

Cara quickly shrugged. "Last time was just different, I guess. He was gone a long time."

"He's here now, though."

But for how long? Cara had always been sad when Dean left. But maybe she shouldn't be sad when he left anymore. He did come back, but he would always leave. He was always gonna leave.

Maybe she had to accept he would inevitably end up leaving her.

"You're right," she conceded, for Noah's sake.

"I hate seeing you angry at him."

Cara stared at her brother. Her little brother. His black hair was a mop on top of his head, blue eyes always bright and cheery. He was so happy all the time. It was rare he was upset, which made it all the more difficult for her to see him sad.

She sighed. Maybe she had to stop thinking about herself. "Okay. I'm sorry. I won't be mad at him anymore."

Noah bit his lip and looked down at the carpet.

"Noah. Yeah?"

"Okay."

"Good."

And that was it. Cara decided she wouldn't let herself be upset by her father leaving ever again.

She wouldn't let her heart be broken again.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will include the Pilot so we are officially in the series now!**

 **And wow! More than fifty people have followed my story! It means a lot to me that so many people enjoy my story! Thank you so much!**


	21. Copilot

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: Copilot**

* * *

 **Stanford University**

 **Palo Alto, California**

 **A Few Months Later**

* * *

A long legged, young blonde untied the ribbons securing the small piece of fabric to her body. Flipping a lock of curly blonde hair over her shoulder, the girl smiled at the mirror, looking at the reflection of the figure behind her. A young man with his back to the mirror pulled off a shirt and went to put on a nightshirt.

Gliding across the floor, the beautiful woman gently removed the shirt from the man's hand. She placed one hand on his shoulder blade and dropped the shirt with the other. With her now free hand, she turned his head towards him and gently kissed the corner of his mouth. "I like you better without the shirt, Sam," she whispered against his lips.

Smirking, Sam spun himself around and wrapped both arms around his girlfriend, Jess. His hands began to undo the rest of the outfit she wore. "And as much as I love this sexy little nurse costume, I think I like you better in nothing."

"Oh really?" Jess raised her arms above her head and allowed Sam to pull the costume off of her. She wound her arms around his neck and began to kiss his jawline.

The couple gave a few heated kisses as Sam slowly started to move Jess back to the bed. He gently laid her down on it and leaned over her, beginning to kiss her clavicle. She sighed and turned her head to the side, one hand unconsciously fanning out her blonde curls.

"Thanks for putting up with me tonight. I know Halloween isn't your favorite holiday," Jess muttered, eyes closed, completely relaxed.

Stopping, Sam raised himself up over Jess, forearms resting on either side of her head. "You know you never need to thank me. I'd do anything for you."

"I love you Sam."

"Love you more, Jess."

* * *

There was a creak that caused Sam's eyes to fly open in the middle of the night. Flooded with adrenaline, he felt his body stiffen, breathing automatically become deeper and quieter. Slowly getting out of bed so not to wake Jess, he crept down the hall, carefully scanning the dark apartment.

A shadow moved in front of the gauzy curtained window, illuminated by the moonlight outside.

Whole body tensing, Sam's body went on autopilot a he lunged forward and began to grapple with the intruder. Sam knew he was out of practice, but he was shocked when the intruder began to block every single punch and kick he was throwing. Stunned for a moment, the intruder took Sam's shock to kick him back into the next room.

Still reeling from the surprise, the intruder arm barred Sam across the shoulders, effectively sending him to the ground.

"Whoa, easy there tiger," came a carefree voice, painfully familiar to Sam.

Squinting, and breathing heavily, Sam began to make out the face of his older brother, the brother he had not seen in over four years. "Dean? You scared the crap out of me."

"It's cause you're out of practice," Dean said with his trademark smirk.

Feeling a rush of emotions of being a kid, Sam moved quickly and flipped Dean, so his older brother was now the one pinned to the floor. "Or not," Dean laughed, "But seriously get off me."

Standing up, Sam held out a hand to his brother until both were standing.. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Dean laughed and looked around the room. "Well, I was looking for a beer."

Unamused, Sam repeated the question, but slowly and more articulately.

"Okay, alright. We gotta talk," Dean responded placatingly, brushing off the front of Sam's shirt for him.

Sam swiped Dean's hand away. "Uhh...the phone?" He asked like it was obvious.

"If I'd've called would you have picked up?"

The lights flicked on before the small coil of guilt in Sam could spring up.

"Sam?"

Like a kid with has hand caught in the cookie jar, Sam took a step away from his brother. "Jess. Hey." He turned to his brother, noticing how Dean automatically began to take in every inch of her appearance. "Dean, this is my _girlfriend,_ Jessica."

"Wait, your brother Dean?" A smile grew over Jess's face. Happy she was finally getting to meet Sam's illusive family, she stepped forward further into the room.

"You know, I love the Smurfs," Dean informed her. He pointed to the crop top with the cut down the middle. Jess smirked at him. She could tell he was a charmer, a real Casanova-he "got around", was Sam's wording, she recalled. "And I gotta tell you," Dean continued, "you are completely out of my brother's league."

"Just...lemme put something on."

"No no no. I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously. Anyways, I gotta borrow your boyfriend to talk about some family business, but it was...nice meeting you." Dean stepped back over to Sam and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Shoving Dean's hand off, Sam moved back over to Jess and wrapped in arm around her. "No. Whatever wanna you say, you can say it in front of her."

"Okay." Dean squared himself up. "Dad hasn't been home in a while."

Sam shrugged. What was the big deal? "So he's working overtime on a Miller timeshift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later."

Figuring Sam would paint John as the villain, Dean clarified his position. "Dad's on a hunting trip. He hasn't been home in nearly three months."

Feeling his mouth involuntarily come open, Sam gently removed his arm from Jess. "Jess, excuse us."

* * *

Stomping down the dark stairs of the apartment complex, Sam followed Dean as he began to walk towards the familiar black Impala. "Look, I get Dad's in trouble but you can't show up in the middle of the night-"

"Did you hear what I said? Dad's missing and-"

"He's _always_ missing Dean. And he's always fine, Dean. And by the way, it's _Sam."_

Ignoring his younger brother's request, Dean tried his best to explain himself. When Dean had initially told Sam in his apartment, he seemed worried, but the closer they got to the Impala, the more resistant Sam was becoming. Dean didn't know what to think of his younger brother anymore, who was basically a gangly teenager the last time he'd seen him. Now he was an overgrown adult, it seemed.

"Look Sam, it's been a few months. It's never been this long," Dean muttered quietly. They had reached the Impala, and he unlocked the trunk, propping it open. Focused on unearthing the hidden weapons' cache below, Dean thought about how this situation was his fault. He had been with Alice for a couple months and had forgotten about John Winchester. It was until he'd gotten a haunting voicemail that he'd remembered his other life, his _real_ life. And he'd been searching alone for a couple months already. Bobby and John weren't exactly on the best terms, so Dean didn't want to bother the older man. And Jan was busy making sure Alice and the kids were safe while he was away.

Sam was the only one left he could ask for help. Sam was the last resort.

"Come on, Sam. Something's wrong. I can feel it. Now, are you gonna help me or not?"

Looking back towards the apartment, Sam shook his head. "I'm not. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Dean sighed.

"I can't. I swore I was done."

"Look man, I know it wasn't easy, but it wasn't _that_ bad," Dean tried to reason.

Sam scoffed and gave Dean an incredulous glare. " _That_ bad? Yeah, it was! When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a .45! I was only nine years old!"

Trying and failing to come to his father's defense, Dean suddenly imagined Cara or Noah pointing a handgun at a shadow in their closet. Stomach turning, Dean tried to convince himself the situations were different. The way he and Sam were raised was out of necessity. He couldn't compare his own childhood to his children's'.

"But…" Dean stumbled, "Sam, come on. You should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there. And you know Dad was just doing the best he could."

"I know, but still. We were raised like warriors. Ever since Mom was killed, Dad let his _obsession_ with finding the thing that killed her consume our entire lives. Dean, we gave up our childhoods for that, and we still haven't found the damn thing, not in twenty-two years."

"We've saved a lot of people along the way."

"You really think Mom would've wanted this for us? Honestly?"

At an impasse, Dean crossed his arms. "So what you're gonna…" _Live some apple pie life?_ He couldn't finish the sentence. That would've made him a hypocrite of the highest order.

"Gonna what? I'm done hunting, Dean."

"Is _that_ why you left?" He knew he didn't have any right to feel upset with Sammy leaving, but the wound he'd ignored for four years was finally popping open.

Indignant, Sam scoffed. "I was just going to college. Dad was the one who told me to stay gone. That's what I've been doing."

"Well, I'm not Dad. And I'm asking you for help. Just this once. Do this once thing for me and I won't bother you again, Sam." It was perhaps a lie, but it was maybe the only thing would get Sam to help him.

Sam sighed and relented. "Fine. I'll help. But I have to be back by Monday. I have this interview. It's for law school."

Dean felt a rush of pride and betrayal at the same time. Internally chastising himself, he advised Sam to skip it. It was going to take a whole lot longer than a weekend to find John at the rate Dean had been working at, especially since Sammy was probably out of practice.

"It's my entire future on a plate, Dean. I can't _skip_ it."

There was a beat of silence.

"Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it, Dean."

"Fine. We'll have you back for your big shot interview."

* * *

Sam shoved a couple more articles of clothing into his duffel bag, quickly moving around the small bedroom, gathering other things he'd need for the weekend. There were so many things in his mind he didn't see Jess standing in the doorway.

Her hair had been pulled up into a bun, and she wore one of his large Stanford hoodies. "So you're just...leaving? Is this about your Dad? Is something wrong with him"

Snapping back to reality, Sam turned his attention to her. "Just some family drama. Nothing too serious."

Jess frowned, not entirely believing him. "Your brother said he was on some hunting trip?"

"Yeah," Sam said, looking away from her. "Deer hunting. He's probably holed up at the family cabin with Joe, Jack, and Jose. We're just gonna drag him back. This happens sometimes."

Squinting her eyes, Jess, worried for Sam, was torn between trusting him and wanting to question him. He hadn't spoken to his family in four years, hardly even talked about them, and now he was taking off with his brother in the middle of the night. She had never really asked about his family, or his past-it was something he didn't really like to talk about-but something had obviously changed.

"And the interview?" Jess prompted.

Sam kissed the side of her head, still not making eye contact with her. "I'll make it. Don't worry, I'll be back by then." He slid past her, down the hallway.

"Sam, wait." She jogged after him into the living room. "Will you slow down for a minute?"

Pausing, Sam turned around, finally looking her in the eyes. "I'm sorry," he said lowly. "I know this is kinda out of blue…"

Jess shook her head and place a hand on his cheek. "Baby, I'm not mad at you, I'm just worried...are you sure you're okay?"

Leaning into her touch, Sam nodded. "I'm fine. Don't worry, Jess. Everything will be fine. I'll be back in time for the interview."

With a sigh, she moved some hair out of his face. "Look, I can tell something is bothering you, Sam. You know you can always talk to me-"

"Babe, I know. Look, Dean's waiting for me I should-"

"-go. Yeah, I know," Jess said with a sigh, having to let the situation go.

"I love you. I gotta go." He gave her a quick peck on the lips and exited the room.

"Love you too," she called after him, with a deflated tone. She heard the front door slam, and watched from behind the curtain as he got into his brother's black car.

* * *

Once the two were settled in the Impala, Dean turned on the radio and let some classic rock seep into the car.

Looking around the vehicle, Sam tried to remember he was a grown up with a girlfriend and not a kid who had to do everything his father said. Even when John Winchester wasn't there, Sam couldn't help but feel a certain level of disdain for the man. But as much as he wanted to admit it, he was worried. Sure, their father disappeared for a couple weeks at a time when they were kids, but that was a long stretch of time.

"So...Dad's been gone for three weeks and now you just start to look for him?" Sam asked. He tried to remain neutral but was a little peeved Dean couldn't handle their father on his own.

Dean sucked in his teeth. It partially was his fault. He had been at Alice's until a couple weeks ago, when he realized he in fact hadn't heard from his father. It was amazing how quickly Dean had been able to forget about John. It really concerned him. "We hunt apart a lot. No more than a few weeks at a time. We keep in touch every couple days. That voicemail was what really let me know something was wrong."

Sam recalled the voicemail John had left for Dean, where was he in Jericho, California. " _Be very careful Dean, we're all in danger."_ Then Dean had run it through the Gold wave and they'd heard the haunted voice of a woman. "I can never go home," she had said.

Sam shook his head. "You should've started looking sooner." The comment was involuntary and perhaps unfair on the part of his brother, but he knew how his dad could be.

Dean should've done everything sooner. He didn't know how many bridges he'd burned in the past four years. He was just lucky Alice had taken him back, and the only reason he'd gone back to her was because Jan and Bobby had basically forced him to. Reaching out to Sam had been a last _last_ resort. He knew his brother wanted nothing to do with the family, and couldn't blame him for that when Dean had been doing the same thing since he was seventeen. "I thought I could handle it," Dean admitted. He wanted to tell Sam he wanted to go after him, that he had tried to call him.

But it didn't matter.

"I still can't believe Dad's been letting you hunt by yourself."

Dean scoffed. "I'm twenty-six, dude. I've been hunting solo for nearly a decade."

"Whatever, man.

"I'm not gonna have to teach you how to use a sawed off am I?"

"What, why?"

"Just saying, you're probably kinda rusty, there kiddo."

Sam shook his head in disbelief, still he was smiling. "I took you down no problem."

"Yeah well I-"

"Right Dean."

Pouting Dean, regripped the steering wheel and focused on the road. He began to think about Allie and the kids. Cara was still frosty to him, which was something he didn't see going away anytime soon. At least Noah and Alice had forgiven him.

It was out of the blue, but Dean began to think if Jess and Alice would get along. He could tell Sam was head over heels for the girl. They seemed pretty serious.

 _God you sound like a woman,_ Dean thought to himself. Besides, before any of that happened, he had to tell Sam about Alice and the kids. He'd been wanting to do it for years, but never knew when, and then when Sam left, he lost his chance. But now, here his brother was again.

"Hey Sammy?"

"It's Sam."

There was a silence.

"What, Dean?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering if you remembered that hunt in Madison, Wisconsin. It would've been the late nineties?"

Sam frowned. "What were we hunting?"

Dean felt himself chuckling. "It was that ghoul but it was the dumbest thing I've ever seen. You remember when it tried to steel the rims off my baby? I was _pissed_ when I found that thing. Damn I've never seen something run so fast."

Stilling, Sam turned and looked at Dean. "I wasn't there, Dean."

"Yes you were. Remember the diner with the-"

"No, cause I wasn't there. That was one of the solo hunts you went on."

The smile wiped itself off Dean's face. The foggy parts of the memory cleared a bit and Dean realized Sam was right. Sammy hadn't been there.

"Right. I must've been thinking about a different hunt. They all blend together after awhile."

"Right."

With the mood effectively ruined, Dean turned up the volume, letting the music cushion the awkwardness between the two brothers. Both just hoped the entire weekend wouldn't be this painful.

* * *

It was early the next morning, and they were stopped at some podunk gas station in the middle of nowhere, and already, Sam had a voicemail from Jess. " _Hey Sam, I know it's the middle of the night and you haven't been gone long but, I just wanted you to know I'm sorry for not trusting you. Do what you have to do and I'll be here whenever you get home. I love you."_

Thinking about how much he didn't deserve her, Sam was just about to call her back when the driver's door opened and Dean slid in, dumping a heap of junk food on the seat between them.

Dean grabbed a bag of chips and pop and offered them to Sam. "Want some breakfast?"

Slightly disgusted, Sam shook his head. Shrugging, Dean opened the bag for himself and began to munch of chips.

"Breakfast of Champions, huh Dean?"

Dean smirked. "You know it."

Sam had turned his attention to the box that was at his feet. "So...how are you and Dad paying for all this stuff? Still running credit card scams?"

Taking a swig of the dark colored pop, Dean laughed. "Hunting ain't exactly pro-ball. Look, we just apply. It's not my fault they keep sending us cards."

"Yeah? What names did you use this time?" Sam challenged.

"Burt Aframian and his loving son Hector," Dean informed, as it it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam turned and scrutinized his brother. "No."

"What?" Dean asked, mouth full of orange chips.

"I don't see it."

"See what?"

"You don't look like a Hector. You're too short."

"Well we can't all be the Jolly Green Giant."

Still on the high of making fun of his brother, Sam shook the box of cassettes. "I swear, you gotta update your music collection."

Truly offended, a chip stopped halfway to Dean's mouth. "What's wrong with it?"

"First of all: they're cassettes. Second of all: you got anything that's not Mullet Rock?"

"What's wrong with that? I bet you listen to crap like Three Doors Down and Nickelback-"

"How do you know who Nickelback is?" Sam suddenly asked.

Dean snapped his mouth shut. Alice liked them. God, her taste in music was _awful_. "Come on man, I'm not _that_ old."

Sam chuckled. "It would be nice if you could play something within our lifetimes, though."

"House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

"It's Sam-"

Dean turned his _old_ music way up and gave Sam a shiteating grin. "What?"

"Jerk!" Sam yelled over the music, feeling himself smile.

"Bitch!" Dean yelled back.

And there they went, burning rubber, churning the asphalt towards Jericho.

* * *

Sam had called several hospitals and morgues, and with a strange combination of relief and impatience, found their father was at least not dead or injured. The next logical thing they had decided to do was start working the case he had been working, retracing his footsteps.

The first step had been investigating the bridge that had been blocked off, and after that Sam and Dean had talked to the girlfriend of the guy that mysteriously vanished, and then they had gone to the library to do research on the history of the bridge, where they currently were, holed up in the back with a computer.

Dean, squinting at the screen, typed much too slow for Sam's taste. For about the fifth time, his search query, "Female Murder Centennial Highway" yielded no results.

"Let me try," Sam said, painfully watching his brother try to navigate the computer.

"I got it," Dean muttered, swatting Sam's hand away.

With an irritated huff, Sam shoved Dean's rolly chair aside and took his place in front of the computer, vigorously typing away.

"Dude," Dean growled, wheeling back over, "you are such a control freak."

Ignoring him, Sam thought out loud to himself. "Angry spirits are born out of a violent death. If it's not murder…" He typed in "Female Suicide Centennial" and an article popped up, titled "Suicide on Centennial". With a victorious smirk, Sam turned to gloat.

"Congrats. You're a computer nerd. Good for you," Dean said sarcastically.

With a triumphant chuckle, Sam clicked the article and scanned through it. "Okay. It's says 1981, Constance Welch, age twenty-four, jumps off the bridge and drowns in the river."

"Say why'd she do it?"

"Yeah. God…" Sam muttered, scrolling down a little further. "It says an hour before she killed herself, she had called the police. Apparently her two kids had drowned in the bathtub. Says she left them alone for a minute, she comes back, and they're both dead."

 _Two kids. Drowning._ The scene would always be fresh in his head, the one where is kids were being drowned in a murky pond. He could still hear their screams.

A minute. All it took was a minute. It had only been a few when Alice and Dean had lost track of Cara and Noah. And those few minutes had almost cost them their children.

Standing up shakily, Dean didn't hear Sam read out the rest of the article. Without a word, Dean flew out of the library and tried to get a grip on the situation. How could he be so triggered by one little article? It was pathetic. But the more and more he thought about it, the more angered he began at those Hanratty boys, and then that demon bitch Sonja that couldn't seem to leave his family alone.

The door was pushed open and Sam looked around, spotting Dean leaning against the side of the building.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Sam asked, wondering what the hell had gotten Dean so spooked.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing. We just gotta find Dad."

"Yeah I agree. But what was that in there? You-"

"It was nothing, Sam. I just remembered something. But it's not important."

Skeptical, Sam raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure-"

"God, just leave it!" Dean growled. "Let's go!"

* * *

A few hours later, Dean had regained his composure, but was keyed up by this case. He wanted to find John Winchester. He wanted to see Alice and the kids. And now, he had some sympathy towards this spirit. Usually, he didn't have a sense of sadness for them, but this time was different. The whole thing just pissed him off, especially cause he knew he had to gank this Constance chick who was just a mother in mourning of her children. The whole thing was a whirlwind in the gray area.

The two brothers stood on the abandoned, darkened bridge. They slowly walked towards the railing. "This must've been where she took the swan dive," Dean commented.

"You think Dad was here?" Sam asked. He shined his flashlight along the railing of the bridge, and then over the edge.

"He's chasing the story. We're chasing him," Dean muttered, on edge.

"So, what then?"

"We keep digging. Might take awhile."

"Dean, the interview?"

"The interview. Right." Dean flicked a pebble off the metal railing that had been resting there. He scoffed.

"What's your problem?" Sam demanded. Ever since the episode in the library, Dean had been all pissy. He didn't know what had caused it, since Dean brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Nothing."

"Obviously _something_ is your problem. You've been crabby ever since the library-"

" _You're_ my problem, Sam." Dean pointed a finger at him. He slowly felt himself losing control, and all sense of rationality.

"Why?"

"You're really serious about this? You're gonna marry your girl? Become a lawyer?"

Feeling his hackles raising, Sam crossed his arms defensively. "What's wrong with that?"

"And yet...here you are, back here, hunting with me."

"That's because you dragged me back."

Dean scoffed. "I didn't drag you back. You came willingly."

"Yeah, because Dad was in trouble and you needed my help! What's your point, Dean?"

"You can't have it all!" Dean exploded. "You think you can have this _safe_ and normal apple pie life and pretend like you're not like us!"

"Like who?" Sam scoffed. "Oh, you and Dad? I'm not like you. I'm nothing like you. Never have been."

"You're a hunter, through and through, Samuel, and you can't just pretend you never were. You know that life is gonna catch up with you sooner or later!"

"What do you know, Dean?" Sam shot back. "All you've ever done is blindly follow Dad on hunts! It seems like you two spend more time apart than together anyways! _You_ could've gotten out but you're so brainwashed by Dad's crusade-"

Dean gave a laugh, signalling Sam should stop while he was ahead. "You don't know anything, Sammy. Even though you're a big bad college boy, you don't know anything."

"I do know I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like without pictures. I know that even if we do find the thing that killed her, she's not coming back! And you've thrown away your life to a thankless cause. Congratulations, you've amounted to _nothing-"_

Before registering what happened, Dean grabbed Sam and forcefully slammed him into the railing. Voice low, Dean got right up in Sam's face, shaking with rage, wanting to throw him over the bridge himself. "I don't care if you don't remember her, Sam, you _don't_ talk about her like that. And _don't you dare_ tell me my life has amounted to nothing. You have no idea. Don't sit up there in your ivy league tower judging me, thinking you're better than me. You're not. And you know nothing."

Stepping back from Sam, breathing heavily, Dean suddenly noticed a movement in his peripheral. "What the hell?" Both brothers turning, they spotted, Constance Welch. She was further down the bridge, balancing precariously on the railing. She was pale, with dark hair, wearing a white nightgown that whipped around in the nonexistent wind. Her tortured face observed them for a moment, before she let herself free fall into the waters below.

Snapping into the action, the harsh exchange of words momentarily forgotten, both boys rush to the railing and peer over the edge into the dark water.

"Where'd she go?" Dean demanded.

A mechanic growling noise answered Dean's question. Heads turning, the bridge was illuminated by the Impala's headlights flicking on.

"Uh….who's driving your car?" Sam asked,

Dumbfounded, Dean reached into his pocket and fished out the keys, wordlessly holding them up for Sam to see.

After a second of confusion, the wheels squealed and the Impala picked up speed, the possessed car bearing down on the pair.

"Go go go! Run run run!" Sam yelled, pushing Dean ahead. The two took off running down the bridge, soon realizing they would not be able to outrun the car. Thinking in tandem, the two grabbed onto the railing and hoisted themselves over the edge. Sam was able to hang on, but Dean quickly lost his grip and there was an expletive, followed by a far away splash.

Panicking, Sam tried to squint into the dark water, while still holding on himself. "Dean? Dean!" He yelled, as the lights and engine of the Impala shut off. The sound of coughing coming from the river helped Sam locate a figure covered in mud, dragging itself to the shore.

"Hey, you alright?" Sam called down to his brother.

"I'm super," came the quiet voice, followed by an okay sign.

With a relieved laugh, Sam hoisted himself back over the bridge to wait for his brother.

A few minutes later, Dean had lumbered up, returning to where they had been before the Impala tried to kill them. And Sam had to say, he looked quite comical, his entire face and clothes covered in mud. Dean was busy muttering about what a bitch Constance was. He came and leaned against the Impala beside Sam.

"You smell like a toilet," Sam commented.

Dean shook his head. "Let's just get a room so I can take a damn shower."

* * *

John Winchester, aka Burt Aframian _had_ in fact been staying at the motel the brothers had just checked into. After scouring his room, they found a plethora of clues that they were dealing with a Woman in White, but that their father was nowhere to be found.

The next morning, Dean had gone to get some food and Sam was busy listening to another voicemail from Jess. He felt guilty that she was worried about him, but he didn't know what to say to her in the message. He couldn't explain over the phone and figured talking in person would be better. Hating to lie to her, he'd just have to tell her there was bad cell reception.

With a sigh, Sam saw Dean calling him. "No, I don't want a cream cheese donut Dean-"

"Five-oh. Take off."

Standing quickly, Sam started to gather all their things, after peering outside. "What about you?"

"I've been had. Find Dad."

Sam was quick to escape out the back window of the room, and slinked around the side of the building, hiding in the bushes, just in time to see the police officer confront Dean.

"You got anything that's real?" The cop asked Dean.

With a shiteating grin, Dean beamed at the officer. "My boobs."

"How the hell have you managed to not get yourself killed all these years?" Sam muttered. "Really unbelievable, Dean. Just amazing." He watched around the corner as Dean was slammed against the hood of a cop car and cuffed. Apparently they had done a pretty bad job posing as US Marshals.

Luckily, Sam had managed to find the widower of Constance, Joseph Welch. He figured talking to him would fill in some blanks in the case. Deciding Dean was going to have to hang tight for a while, he waited until the coast was clear before speeding off in the Impala

* * *

While Sam was talking to Constance's widower, Dean was let into an interrogation room and cuffed to the table. He had been shittalking the sheriff attempting to interrogate him, which was always fun. He just had to bide his time, waiting for the right moment to escape. He was totally relaxed, totally cool.

That was until the sheriff slammed a leather bound journal onto the metal table. "So...Dean. I know this is your father's."

The smirk quickly wiped itself off Dean' face. He was silent. It was his dad's journal. John _never_ went anywhere without that.

"I ran your name through the scanner and a whole lot of crazy came up on it, son. I've got a whole array of crimes attached to your name. Kidnapping, breaking and entering, assault and battery, evading arrest, aiding and abetting, vandalism...and my personal favorite: mail fraud. But something else interesting came up."

The sheriff pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "A police report mentioning you. All the way back from '01. It was filed by an Officer Adrianna Martinez at the request of an Alice Mercer. Officer Martinez of Batavia, Illinois responded to a call of _four_ missing children. However, it escalated into two of those children being coerced and were nearly drowned by the other two.

"And what do you know, the one to stop the two children from being drowned was none other than our Good Samaritan Felon, Dean Winchester."

"Must be another Dean Winchester."

The sheriff shook his head. "I'm gonna tell you what I know. This woman, Alice Mercer is the mother of the two children that almost drowned, Cara and Noah. And you know what else I think, Dean? Ask me what."

"What?" Dean growled.

"I think Dean Winchester is the father of Cara and Noah."

Dean kept his mouth shut, suddenly feeling the walls of the cinderblock room closing in on him. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, but forced himself to take slow, measured breaths.

"And I would be a pretty penny you and this woman are your kids to be Satanic soldiers, just like your father with you."

"Alice has nothing to do with this. She doesn't know any of this." Dean insisted stonily.

The sheriff smiled, proud he got Dean to admit to who he was. "I didn't think she did. I ran her record. Clean as a whistle. Not even a parking ticket. Don't worry, son. We'll leave them out of this. I'm not in the business of ruining some kid's lives that live on the other side of the country.

"What I care about is what this means." The sheriff opened the journal to a certain page. It said "Dean 35-111" in dark marker.

"Oh that?" Dean returned to his devil-may-care demeanor. "That's my high school locker combo."

The smugness slowly slid off the sheriff's face.

* * *

"Fake 911 call? That's pretty illegal Mr. Pre-Law."

"You're welcome," Sam said, one hand on the phone, the other driving towards Constance's old house. After questioning her widower, Joseph, Sam found out she was buried behind her old house. Joseph had been unfaithful to her, which was a trademark of a Woman in White.

"Look, we gotta talk," Dean started.

"I talked to Constance's widower and-"

"Sam wait."

"What?"

"Dad left Jericho."

There was silence for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"He left his journal."

The next few minutes were the brothers trying to figure out why John would leave in the middle of the hunt and what the numbers he left them meant. In the middle of discussing it, Sam suddenly slammed on the brakes as Constance appeared in the middle of the road. The car went straight through her.

Breathing heavily, Sam listened to Dean yelling through the phone, asking if he was okay when Constance atomized into the backseat. "Take me home," she whispered sadly. And just like on the bridge, she took control of the Impala and began to drive it towards a boarded-up, white clapboard house.

Once they pulled up in front, the car stopped and she reappeared in the front seat. Leaning forward, one hand on the dashboard, she looked sadly at the house. "I can never go home." She turned to Sam. "Hold me. I'm so cold." She fritzed in and out, settling on his lap.

"You can't hurt me. I've never been unfaithful," Sam groaned, trying to avoid her cold touch.

Moving with impossible speed, she whispered in his ear. "You will be." She shot a hand out over his heart and Sam began to see everything go white, and feel his chest burn, like he was having a heart attack.

The window exploded and Constance looked up from what she was doing. Head snapping, she watched as Dean walked towards the car, pumping a shotgun full of rock salt.

Gasping and taking the opportunity but still breathing heavily, Sam shoved the car into gear. "I'm taking you home." He stepped on the gas and ran the Impala straight through the front of the house.

In a daze, Sam heard Dean yelling his name, and let himself be dragged out of the car by his brother. Covered in plaster, Sam gripped Dean, slowly feeling himself gain strength from the ordeal.

"You good?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

Dean looked around. "Where is she?"

Although they were inside a building, a gust of window began to blow debris around the room, swirling like a tornado growing in size.

"She's here," Sam muttered.

Still supporting Sam, Dean moved the two of them towards one of the windows, hoping to leave the house before the bitch-yes, even Dean thought so now-showed up again.

Supported by a powerful gust of widow, a rotting dresser flew across the room and pinned Sam and Dean up against the wall before they could leave. Both groaning in pain, the wind knocked out of them, they keeled over and watched the scene in front of them, a captive audience.

Constance appeared, standing in the middle of the room, her attention captured by two small figures at the top of the stairs. Dean recognized them as her children. Had they been trapped in this house the entire time?

"You've come home to us, Mommy," the small, echoey voices whispered. The figures moved down the stairs, and Dean realized with a pang, they were a boy and a girl, close in age, like Cara and Noah.

Constance backed up a few paces, horrified her children. But before she would disappear, both children lunged at her, grabbing her. There was a magnificent flash of purple electricity as she screamed and her children cried. Like water melting from ice, the three apparitions trickled into the ground.

The dresser fell away and Dean, eyes fixed woodenly on the spot walked towards it. "So...this is where she drowned her kids." He had felt sympathy for this woman, but Dean decided he wasn't like her. She had ended her own children's lives. It didn't matter that her husband had cheated on her. What she had done was far worse.

Sam came and stood next to Dean. "So that's why she could never come home. She was scared to face them."

"Good riddance, I say." Dean spat on the spot of the floor where they had disappeared.

"Dean."

"Huh?"

"Look man, I'm sorry about what I said on the bridge about Mom. And about you. It was uncalled for-"

"No chick flick moments."

"Right okay. What were you doing shooting Caspar in the face you freak?"

Dean wrenched his gaze away from the spot on the floor. "Saved your ass didn't it?" He walked over to the Impala and peered inside. "I'll tell you one thing: if you screwed up my car, I'll kill you."

* * *

The ride back to Stanford was a mixture of tenseness and bittersweetness. Dean had tried to convince Sam to go to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado. The numbers John had left them had been coordinates for that location. But Sam had declined, citing the law school interview. After that, they drove the rest of the way in silence.

A few hours later, Dean pulled up to Sam's apartment building. The two sat in silence for a moment. "You'll call me if you find him?"

"Sure thing," Dean said. He stared ahead, thinking about how now was his last chance to tell Sam about Alice and the kids.

"Maybe we can meet up later?" Sam asked.

"Sounds good."

"Okay well, I'll see you around." Sam exited the Impala and retrieved his duffel from the backseat. He waved to Dean before walking up the path.

Dean rolled down the window, calling after his brother. "Hey Sam?" _Remember Alice Mercer from that farm town in Nebraska? The one you told we were leaving? Well, we have two kids together. I have a daughter named Cara and a son named Noah. They're ten and eight. And when I went on all those solo hunts, I was actually visiting her._

"Yeah Dean?"

Dean hesitated. He couldn't uproot Sam's life like that. Sam had a girlfriend he loved and a future. Dean didn't want to jeopardize that. "We made a hell of a team back there."

Sam gave a small smile. "Yeah, we did. I'll see you around, Dean."

"See you around."

Dean rolled up the window leisurely rolled away from the curb. Now hadn't been the right time to tell Sam. He didn't know when it would be, but he knew he wanted Sam to know his niece and nephew.

With a satisfied smile, Dean went to change the radio station, only to see the needle changing frequencies spastically. He noticed the clock on the dashboard was frozen, as well as his watch.

"Sam," he muttered. He swerved around and raced back towards the apartment, only to see the entire building engulfed in flames. Without a second thought, Dean was out of the Impala, pounding up the steps, kicking in the door to Sam's apartment, all while calling his name. Coughing and follow the trail of smoke that was concentrated most strongly in the bedroom, Dean burst in, aghast at the sight.

Sam was laying on the bed, arms covering his head yelling Jess' name over and over. Jess, was on the ceiling, on fire, splayed out, exactly like Mary Winchester.

Seeing the flames were licking their ways down the walls, Dean forcefully grabbed Sam and shoved him out of the room, Sam resisting the entire way, yelling after his girlfriend. It took all of Dean's strength to get Sam out of the building, and even then, he was inconsolable. He kept trying to dart past Dean, who never seen Sam so crazed. During one of the instances when Sam was trying to wrestle past Dean, where was a low rumbling sound and there was an explosion, that popped all the windows, and blew fire out of the opening. The firefighters increased their pressure hoses, while the cops were pushing people back.

That explosion caused Sam to stop cold. He dropped his arms that were trying to shove past Dean and there was a deep sob that came somewhere deep within him. Sam's vision started to blur. His knees buckled and Dean grabbed the front of his shirt as Sam lost his balance. His eyes fluttered like he was going to pass out. "Hey, Sammy, come on, stay with me."

Shaking, Sam's hands feebly grabbed at Dean's wrists. His eyes darted around unfocused, like a blind man trying to pinpoint a distant sound. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"She's gone."

Dean was silent. There was nothing he could say.

"Just like Mom." Dean swallowed the feeling of sadness.

"Why do we get you checked out by the paramedics, huh?"

"I'm fine." Sam suddenly regained his footing, stepping away from his brother.

Dean shook his head and pointed to Sam's right arm. The sleeve had been burned off and his skin was red and blistery below that. "You're not fine."

Sam frowned, looking down at his arm. That couldn't be his arm. He didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything.

"Come on. Humor me."

"Okay." Sam nodded and stumbled towards the paramedics.

"I'll be here," Dean called. Rubbing his sweating face with one hand, he grabbed his phone and speed dialed Alice.

"Hello?"

"Hey it's me."

"How are you? Have you found your dad yet?"

"No. Not yet."

There was silence. "Are you okay? Dean, are you okay? Are those police sirens in the background?"

"Yeah uh...I got Sam to help me look for Dad over the weekend-"

"You talked to your brother? That's great!"

"Allie wait."

"What's wrong?"

"I dropped Sam off at his apartment and...there was a fire."

"Oh my God. Is Sam okay? Are you okay?"

"We're alive, but Allie...Sam had a girlfriend. Jess. I met her. She was really nice. She didn't make it."

"Sam's girlfriend died in the fire?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah."

"Good Lord. That's terrible. Is Sam…"

Dean looked over at the ambulance Sam was sitting in. An EMT was busy wrapping his burn up in gauze. "He's...I don't know. Can't really say anything about this."

"That's horrible. What's he gonna do now?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to talk to you, needed to hear your voice. I'll call you in a few days when we figure everything out, okay?"

"Sure, Dean. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye.

"Bye."

Pocketing his phone, Dean looked up and saw Sam opening the trunk of the Impala. Dean walked over, noticing how solemn Sam looked. His upper arm was bandaged in white and he had a stony expression on his face. He was cocking and uncocking a sawed off shotgun.

Wary, Dean went to stand by him, but didn't say anything. Noticing the look Dean was giving him, Sam determinedly dropped the weapon into the trunk.

"We got work to do," Sam said with finality, slamming the trunk shut.

* * *

 **Happy New Year! We are officially canon guys! Sorry it took awhile to get it out but this chapter was harder to write than I thought! I promise the next one will be out sooner.**

 **I just want to say, obviously this is a fanfic and I don't own anything, but I just want to acknowledge some of the dialogue is directly from the show.**

 **And as usual, thank you to everything who reads, reviews, likes, favorites, etc!**

 **Lastly, I was originally going to split each section of this story into a different fic, but I am considering keeping it all in one story and just marking which section ends where. Let me know what you guys think: if you want a really long fic or a couple shorter ones?**

 **Thanks guys!**


	22. Church Bells

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Church Bells**

* * *

Sam stared at himself in the foggy bathroom mirror. The white dress shirt, unbuttoned, already has noticeable sweat stains. Not noticing them, Sam ran a comb through his wet hair, trying to get it to look somewhat managed, for once in his life.

He pulled the comb away, only to see there was a persistent cowlick standing proud on the back of his head. With an autonomic shout of frustration, he seized the plastic comb in both hands and snapped it in half. Breathing heavily, he threw the pieces down to the ground, catching his rabid appearance in the mirror.

His hair was in disarray once again, shirt wrinkled from the burst of anger.

Feeling an inexplicable rage pushing up against his chest, Sam's face twisted in disgust at the pathetic image of himself: the pinnacle of insanity. Adhering to his reflection, Sam's fist drew back and pounded forward, the glass buckling, creating a sharp crater around it.

Gasping at the adrenaline fleeing his body, Sam felt an electrical pain traipse the length of his arm. He groped behind him for the wall. Sense of perception thrown off by the pain in his arm and the tears beginning to sting his eyes, Sam went to lean back, but had misjudged how close the wall was. Slipping, he several feet into the distant wall, head slamming against is ferociously.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. "Sammy?" Dean asked quietly.

Not responding, Sam quickly stood up and brushed himself off. He exited the bathroom, not making eye contact with his brother. Pretending nothing was wrong, he focused on buttoning up his shirt, which now had blood on the sleeves.

Dean checked the bathroom, and saw the broken comb and the shattered mirror, noticing Sam's bloody knuckles, along with the splatters on his shirt. "You should take care of that hand. It might get infected."

"It's fine."

Dean observed his little brother. For the past week, never had he seen Sam cycle through so many emotions. He would be angry, numb, and devastated all within an hour. However, the one constant was the new determination he had in finding Jess' killer. They both knew better than it being a freak accident. Dying just like the way their mother had, the only thing Sam could focus on was researching and chasing down leads. He had barely slept, barely ate, running purely on vengeance.

"Right…" Trailing off, Dean didn't want to be a nag. He smoothed down the lapel of the FBI monkey suit he wore. "Well, we should leave soon."

"Just gimme five," Sam muttered, looking down at his bloodied fist.

"I'll be in the car."

* * *

The funeral was held in tiny, limestone Methodist church in Salinas, California. About an hour away from Stanford, it was where Jess had been born and raised.

The heavy wooden doors were propped open, and Sam and Dean fell into the stream of somber funeral-goers, all clad in black. The inside of the church was vaulted, with wooden beams serving as an endo-skeletal support system. Everyone slowly milled around, some sitting in pews, other quietly conversing with one another. Over the soft murmur of the crowd was quiet piano music, coming from the right side of the altar. The player was an older woman with frosted blonde hair, large earrings, and bifocal glasses. Sam recognized her as an aunt or someone of the sort from the Christmas he had spent with her family last year.

A lump formed in Sam's throat as his eyes scanned to the altar, where an ivory casket was set up. Flowers of all colors covered and surrounded the casket. Sharp tears began to prick Sam's eyes and with frustration, he remembered the casket was merely a symbol. It was empty, as there had been no body to bury.

Jess had burned away to nothing in the fire.

Vision flitting to the left of the casket, Sam apprehensively walked up to the couple standing on the altar. The woman's hair was pulled back in a simple bun. Even with no makeup and figure hidden under a shapeless dress, Jess's mother, Andrea Moore managed to look radiant. And beside her was Jess's father, Matthew. He had white buzzed hair and a suit that barely seemed to fit his large frame. The man had served in the military for nearly twenty, had fought in several wars.

Andrea was the first one to spot Sam. With a sob, she rushed down the stairs and wrapped him into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh Sam…" she whispered quietly. He guiltily returned the hug. The two slowly pulled away when Matthew stepped down beside his wife.

Sam submissively made eye contact with Matthew. The man had not initially liked him, thinking he hadn't been good enough for Jess-and he was right. Not sure exactly how he would react, Sam carefully opened his mouth. "Mr. Moore, I'm sorry for your loss," he said, operating robotically.

Breaking the tension, Matthew grabbed Sam in a stiff, short, one armed hug. "Our loss," he said, voice breaking. Undoubtedly he had seen many horrible things, but the funeral of his only child was the worst thing he'd been through, evident in the shakiness of his voice, and the shininess of his icy eyes.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save her," Sam apologized, feeling any emotional walls of protection he had built up come crumbling down.

"It was an accident, a tragic accident," Matthew supplied, jaw twitching. He patted Sam on the shoulder before gently guiding his wife back up beside the coffin, where the greeted several other guests.

There was a clattering sound near the entrance of the church that reverberated painfully throughout the entire room. All conversation ceased, the piano notes stopped in an unpleasant discord, and heads turned to the source of the noise.

Trying to rebalance an unused lectern that had been knocked over, the culprit tumbled sideways while trying to right the fallen furniture. There were several gasps of disgust as the figure gripped a nearby pew and staggered himself up. Still holding the bench for support, Sam felt a gathering of rage when he recognized the familiar figure. Wearing a wrinkled, stained dress shirt, no jacket, and with sunglasses, and messy hair, was Brady, a friend of Sam's and Jess's. He had been the one to introduce the two of them.

Now Sam knew Brady had a tough time since sophomore year. His friend had fallen into drugs and bad company. The past few years had been difficult, but Sam always considered him a friend.

Straightening up, Brady gestured sloppily around the chapel. "Where's the booze? Let's get this party started!"

Teeth clamping together, Sam's muscles coiled as he marched down the aisle of the church, shoving past clumps of people frozen in shock at Brady's inappropriate comment. Once reaching his used-to-be-friend, Sam grabbed him by the unironed collar of his shirt and dragged him-nearly choking him-out the doors of the church.

Dean had been standing off to the side, not wanting to impose on the funeral of a woman he had known for roughly five minutes. He quickly slinked around the perimeter of the church, following his brother out of the building.

Rushing down the stairs, Dean quickly found Sam, who had Brady pinned to the side of the church. A way's away from them was the small graveyard where Jess would be buried. Upon seeing that, Sam's temper slowly became more and more out of control.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Sam shouted into Brady's face. With one hand, he snatched the sunglasses off his friend's face and paused when he saw Brady's bloodshot eyes. "You come here drunk and high? How fucking dare you! Her parent's and family are in there, man!"

Brady blinked, seemingly trying to sort out where he was. "She was my friend. I'm mourning, too."

Sam slammed his against the limestone wall. "You're disrespecting her memory by showing up like this!"

"Sam, come on man-"

"No! I'm not gonna calm down! You know how much she meant to me and now you're here shitting on all of that!"

"How do you think I feel, Sam?" Brady slurred. "I was the last person to see her alive!"

"What does that mean?" Sam demanded lowly. His one hand held Brady to the wall, the other clenched in a fist, raised high, ready to strike.

"The weekend trip you and your brother went on? She called me, confused and upset, worried about you. I came over to talk to her. She was making cookies-" Sam remembered the note and batch of cookies she had left for him when he came home. "I should've stayed. I shouldn't have left her," Brady whispered quietly. "Maybe I could've stopped it."

Fist dropping, Sam released his hold on Brady. "You couldn't have," Sam muttered, stepping away from his friend. "There's nothing you could've done."

Slumping down, Brady sniffled and replaced the sunglasses on his face.

"You should go."

Surprised, Brady glanced up at Sam. "What?"

"Go home. Sober up. Jess deserves better than that."

Slowly coming to terms with that, Brady nodded, and patted Sam on the shoulder. "She was a great girl."

"The best," Sam whispered. He clapped Brady back and watched as his friend limped away from the church, out of sight.

With a cough, Sam turned to Dean, who had watched silently from the side, there to make sure the situation hadn't gotten too out of hand. "Friend of yours?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, but he couldn't say he was particularly impressed by the fratty looking boy.

"He introduced me to Jess. Brady's a good guy. He's just been going through a rough patch."

Dean nodded but didn't comment any further.

The two brothers stood in silence for a moment, before returning to the church, just as the bells began to ring, indicating the beginning of the service.

* * *

Everyone was long gone. Cleared out. They were all at a bar down the road, the Moore's Irish heritage manifesting itself in copious amounts of whiskey, loud laughing, and offkey singing, a stark difference from the tone of the funeral. Dean had readily embraced the festivities, fitting right in the family. It had made Sam wonder what kind of relationship Jess and Dean would've had if they had really gotten to know each other.

However, the scene of the bar had quickly overwhelmed Sam, and he had slipped out of the bar unnoticed, and ended up back at the graveyard.

By the time he made it to the freshly dug grave, the sun was beginning to set. Knees buckling, he collapsed in front of the headstone. It was marble, with a small picture of Jess on it. Below that was her name, Jessica Lee Moore, "Beloved Daughter" scrawled beneath that.

One hand gently moved forward and ran down the small picture of her. She looked radiant in it, hair blown back by the wind, a white smile on her face. Sam tried to sear that image into his brain, wanting that to be how he remembered her, for all he saw now was her burning on the ceiling, staring down at him in excruciating pain.

"I'm so sorry. I should've saved you." Sam hadn't told anyone and never would, but Jess's death was his fault. For weeks before her death, he had dreams of her burning. Of course, he thought it was some weird symbolic feeling of his mother. He didn't take them seriously or literally. Of course they were offsetting, but something like that couldn't happen.

But it had.

It was a burden he was going to have to carry the rest of his life, something he would think about every morning he woke up and everything he went to bed, gazing up at an empty ceiling.

Next, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black, velvet box. Snapping it open, he revealed a simple golden ring with a small diamond in the middle. He had picked it out a few weeks ago, and had been carrying it around with him, waiting for the right opportunity to give it to her. She had been the one he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. This ring was for no one else.

Removing the ring from the box, Sam dug a small hole in the fresh dirt, deep enough that it wouldn't be disturbed. Pressing the ring into the dirt, Sam refilled the hole and patted down the dirt until it compacted. "I know it's not much, but it was the best I could do," Sam said. He looked up at the sky, which was now a pinkish color.

Wiping away the tears, he sniffled and look back at her picture. "I promise I'll find who did this to you. I'll never stop looking. I'll make them pay."

Standing, Sam kissed his fingers and pressed it against the top of the headstone. "I love you, Jess. Rest easy."

Turning away from the headstone, Sam stiffly walked out of the graveyard, feeling oddly at peace and burdened at the same time. He couldn't let himself look back, knowing he would break if he did.

As if on cue, Sam spotted the Impala, parked nearby, with Dean leaning up against it, a flask in one hand. He was silent as he watched Sam approach, who came and leaned on the car beside him. Dean passed the flask to him. "How you doing?"

Sam shrugged and took a swig. "Couldn't tell you."

Dean nodded and squinted off into the distance, taking the flask back. "Lemme tell you her family sure knows how to party."

Feeling himself letting out an involuntary chuckle, Sam agreed. "You should've seen them at Christmas. And Jess. She was always the life of the party."

"She seemed like a great girl, Sam. I mean it."

"She was."

They shared the flask until it was empty, and watched as the sun finally disappeared beyond the church and the graveyard. Once there was no light left and the sky turned dark, Dean pocketed the flask and stood up straight, looking to his brother. "What now?"

With a sigh, Sam looked out over the landscape, breathing in the air that had become sharper in the waning light. There was nothing left for him here, anymore. "We dug around for a week and didn't find anything. Now, we go to Blackwater Ridge. We find Dad. And we find the thing that killed Jess and Mom."

"I like the sound of that," Dean agreed, moving to the other side of the car. He fished the keys out of his pocket and stared at them for a moment. "You wanna drive?" He looked up at Sam.

Eyebrows shooting up, Sam contemplated the words for a moment. Dean had never offered to let him drive. It was Dean's way of sympathizing with Sam. Recognizing the significance of the moment, Sam graciously accepted the keys from his brother.

Once the two were settled in the car, they pulled away from the limestone church, leaving the little cemetery in the rearview mirror.

* * *

 **We're officially over 100,000 words! A short chapter originally part of a longer one, I thought it stood better by itself. But don't worry! I have a good portion of the next chapter written, and I promise it'll be what many of you have been waiting for! ;)**

 **As usual, thanks to everyone who reads and enjoy my story! And I've decided to keep this story as a massive fic as opposed to several shorter ones. It'll certainly be a very long one, but I promise it'll be worth it!**

 **Be on the lookout for the next chapter!**


	23. Blood of the Covenant

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: Blood of the Covenant**

* * *

 **A Few Months Later**

* * *

It had already been months, but Sam often felt like he had just put Jess in the ground yesterday. He'd wake up covered in sweat in bed, in the Impala, anywhere where he would be tempted to doze off. Lately, that was a good majority of the time. He couldn't sleep face-up anymore, for all he could see behind the darkness of his eyelids were orange flames licking at the edges of her golden hair and satin nightgown. As a result, Sam felt eternally exhausted, but whenever he fell into a deep sleep, he would jolt awake by the nightmares that plagued him nearly every night.

And it was starting to show. He could feel himself slowly breaking down, body beginning to protest how far he pushed it. But he couldn't let himself give up. What would Jess think of him if he did?

However, after several taxing hunts, Dean had been the one to suggest taking a break.

Initially, Sam battled the idea. He wanted to find their damn father and that son of a bitch that killed Mom, and now Jess. He figured Dean thought he had been unstable—and it was true, he'd had a lot of anger building up for awhile. However, the older brother eventually admitted he was tired and also needed a break.

The last case had been confronting Bloody Mary, the woman that haunted mirrors and made people's eyes bleed. Those people whose eyes she bled held secrets, secrets of another's death in which they had been the cause of. Both brothers had taken hits. And Sam had finally revealed to Dean the nightmares he had prior to Jessica's death. Of course, Dean insisted it hadn't been Sam's fault, but Sam knew better.

And now they were driving away from Fort Wayne, Indiana, where they had confronted Bloody Mary. Sam noticed they were always driving away, always away, but in this instance, they weren't driving towards anything—at least, that's what he thought. Maybe they would just follow the asphalt road until Dean couldn't hold his head up anymore.

That was until he saw the iconic skyline, several hours later.

"Chicago?" Sam turned and asked Dean.

Hands tapping on the steering wheel, Dean shook his head slightly, shoulder cinched near his neck. "Not exactly. About an hour out."

"Why? What's out there? The best burger or apple pie in the state? Deep dish pizza?" Sam laughed at his brother, quickly noting how somber Dean was acting. Going out of the way for food was something Dean would do.

"Not exactly."

"What then, Dean? Why are you acting weird?" Sam wondered Dean had been acting weird the entire ride, but he hadn't exactly been paying attention until now.

Eyebrows animating into a caricature, Dean rolled his shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm not acting weird."

"Really? Cause—"

"Leave it, bitch."

"Fine, jerk."

* * *

About an hour and a half later, the Impala pulled into the driveway of a gray brick two-story house with a black roof and black shutters. The French doors to the house held large panes of frosted glass. Sheer, white curtains hung in the rest of the windows. Some flowers in very particular colors of red, orange, and yellow were arranged along the walkway and front of the home.

Sam turned to Dean. "I thought you wanted to take a break. If there's a case here, you could've just said so." What was wrong with him? He was still acting guilty, Sam noticed. Ever since the strange conversation as they had driven past Chicago, he had been watching Dean closely.

Dean let the parked car run. He hesitantly turned to look at his brother. "There's a case, but there's more to it. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was gonna tell you so many times but there was never the right moment. And then you left for Stanford and Dad went missing and Jess…"

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" Sam was smiling but his eyebrows were turning down in worry. At the mention of Jess, he felt something trigger inside of him. It was still difficult to even hear her name after all this time.

Dean shrugged like he didn't know, either. "It'll just be easier to show you. Please don't get mad right away. Give me some time to explain."

"You want to show me but you want time to explain…" But Dean was already out of the Impala when Sam finished the thought to himself.

Even with Dean walking fast, it didn't take very long for Sam to catch up with his brother. "We need IDs or anything?" He asked as they walked up the driveway to the front door.

"No." Dean didn't say anything else, not looking at his brother.

"Weapons?"

"No weapons."

When they reached the front step, Dean was shifting as he rang the doorbell, not able to stand completely still. He kept adjusting the shoulder of his jacket, smoothing down his hair, messing it up, on and on and on. "Dude, relax," Sam urged, even though he felt strangely nervous too, not knowing what was going on.

About forty five seconds later, a figure appeared on the other side of the glass, and the door swung open, caught abruptly by the pale hand that opened it.

The figure behind the glass appeared completely and Sam got a good look at her. It was a little girl, probably about ten or eleven. She was wearing jeans, a lavender t-shirt. She was barefoot and had messy brown hair, just slightly longer than the shoulder. Surprisingly stylish wire frame glasses sat on her nose. Her face was carefully expressionless, except for her lips turning down into an exaggerated frown, yet the edges were turning up slightly. To Sam, it seemed like she was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

Trying to not act surprised, to Dean she said, "It's about time you stopped by again." She gave a cursory glance to Sam and nodded to Dean like she knew something Sam didn't, which apparently she did.

Dean seemed to deflate at that comment. "Is your mom home? She knew I was coming."

The girl didn't say anything, just jerked her head, indicating them to come in.

The pair followed her into the home, with vaulted ceilings in the foyer, and a charcoal rug which ran down the length of the hall into the kitchen area. Sam looked around the house, and noted the ease of which Dean seemed to navigate the area.

The girl grabbed a brand new book from the kitchen counter— _Of Mice and Men—_ and opened the fridge idly. "Wait here. I'll go get her," she said without looking at them. Not finding anything she wanted to eat, the girl slammed the fridge shut and clutched her book tightly.

"Thanks Cara," Dean called, as the girl turned down the hall, who quietly glanced at Dean over her shoulder, watching him carefully.

Sam tried to ask who that girl was and how Dean knew her, but Dean just shut him down saying, "Just give me fifteen minutes."

"Fine. Fifteen minutes."

The two sat there awkwardly for a few minutes, until the sounds of someone coming down that stairs was accompanied by a figure emerging into the kitchen a few seconds later.

It seemed to be an almost grown copy of the girl. This woman had lighter hair than the girl, was shaped nicely, and had a pleasant, expectant expression. She seemed painfully similar to Sam, but for some reason, he couldn't place her.

Dean stood up and went over to hug the woman tightly, kissing her intimately on the mouth. "It's good to see you, Allie," he said, arms winding around her naturally. Sam almost didn't believe his eyes that Dean was so natural and accustomed to this woman in front of him. It was like he was hallucinating.

 _Allie._ Sam suddenly had a flash and he was a middle schooler again, plucking up some angry courage to go over to the pretty upperclassman that tutored younger students. It was there Sam warned Alice Mercer about his brother.

"Alice Mercer?" Sam asked. He stood up slowly, staring at the woman intently.

She let go of Dean, almost surprised to see Sam there for a moment. Eventually a light bulb seemed to go off. "Sam? Sam Winchester? You grew up, kid! And you're so tall! Definitely not what I expected." She engulfed him in a hug. He slowly hugged her back.

Letting him go, Alice turned and looked at Dean. "So, he met Cara?"

Dean nodded silently.

"Who is she? Is that your daughter, Alice?" Sam inquired.

She nodded slowly, glancing at Dean. She moved to stand next to him "Yeah, Sam…Cara's my daughter."

"Well, she certainly looks like you." Sam was still trying to figure out why Dean had kept in contact with Alice Mercer all these years. Yeah, Sam knew Dean had it bad for the girl, but that had been over ten years ago. And Dean had obviously stopped by, familiar with Alice's daughter. There was obviously something going on between him and Alice as well. Sam wondered how well he actually knew his brother in that moment.

"I suppose she does…Sam, maybe you should sit down? Would you like something to drink, water? Coffee? I can make some tea?"

Sam sat. "No thank you, Alice."

"Okay, well, Dean, do you want me to tell him?"

Dean, who stood beside Alice moved forward, so his hands were placed on the edge of the counter. "I'll tell him. It's on me that I haven't for all these years."

"Tell me what, Dean?" Sam felt himself sitting up a little straighter. His hands gripped the edge of the counter.

Dean sighed and heaved forward minutely, like he was going to upchuck all over the kitchen. "You saw Cara, right?"

"Uh…yeah?" Sam responded, wondering why it wasn't obvious.

"Well, you know she's Alice's daughter."

"I gathered that, Dean."

There was a long pause.

"Well, Sammy…she's also mine."

Whoa, _what?_

"Your…daughter?" Sam tried the words out, choking on them. They sounded incredibly wrong.

Dean nodded, wincing, as if preparing for angry Sam. "Yes. Cara is my daughter."

"And she's…" Sam had a _niece?_ For a moment he didn't even remember what that entailed. Did he _even_ know what that entailed? He was an _uncle?_

Alice rubbed Dean's back and stepped up beside him. "Yes, Sam. I found out I was pregnant with her right before you guys left Broken Bow."

As if a vice wrapped itself around his brain, Sam was suddenly aware that he was telling a pregnant Alice—most likely aware she was pregnant—that Dean—potential father—was no good for her. The irrational part of Sam's brain wondered if he was the reason Alice broke up with Dean.

"…didn't tell him, of course. And my parents sent me to live with my aunt in Chicago once I started showing. I lived with her for a couple of years and then she helped me buy this house out here. It's been peaceful.

"It's so funny, as soon as Cara came to get me she said, 'Mom, I think Uncle Sam is here.' She's so smart."

"Yeah…I can see that." Sam's mind was whirling, he watched as Alice excused herself to use the restroom. Dean had told Cara about him? How long had Dean known about Cara? She obviously knew who Dean was well enough to pretend like she hadn't been excited to see him. "How long have you known about her?"

"Since she was seven months old," Dean replied. "She turned ten a couple months ago."

Sam quickly did that math. "That first hunt you went on by yourself in Nebraska wasn't actually a hunt. I still don't know how you convinced Dad to let you go solo at seventeen."

"There was actually a hunt, right near Broken Bow. It was a simple salt and burn. I'd caught Dad while he was smashed and actually in a good mood for once. I begged and bribed him until he said yes. You know I cleaned weapons for a total five months? Anyways, I went to Broken Bow to try and find Alice. She was already living in Chicago. That was when I called and told Dad I'd need a few more day's extension."

"He was mad, I remember." Sam got the brunt of that anger.

"Whatever. Three more months of extra weapon cleaning. It was worth it. Anyways, I eventually tracked down Alice, who was living with her aunt at the time. Dude, I had no idea about Cara until Alice showed me."

"All those times you disappeared for a few days, those 'solo' hunts?"

"Mostly to come here," Dean supplied. "It was easier when you went to Stanford—no offense—and Dad and I started hunting separately."

As Sam was about to ask why Dean never told him, the front door opened and slammed shut so hard, the entire house shook. Alice could be heard jumping into action and storming down the hall. "Muddy shoes in the coat room! You know the rules!"

Her words were hastily obeyed as a blurry figure bolted into the kitchen and latched onto Dean. Sam stood slowly and began to reach for the gun at the small of his back until the figure stopped vibrating enough for Sam to get a clear outline. His fingers immediately loosened when he determined there wasn't any threat. Actually quite the opposite. Alice reappeared in the entrance of the kitchen.

"Dad! I saw the car out front! I didn't know you were coming! You can stay for my football game, right?!" A young boy with a mop of black hair was jumping around in front of Dean, with an amazing amount of energy.

Sam watched in utter confusion and fascination at the completely content look on Dean's face. "I think I could swing that."

"Awesome!"

"Dean…" Sam began.

Sheepishly, Dean turned himself and the boy to look at Sam. The boy smiled and waved, much friendlier than Cara. "Sam, this is Noah, my son. He's eight."

"And three-quarters!" Noah held up three fingers, a gap-toothed grin.

"That's right. Noah, this is my brother, this is your Uncle Sam, the one I've been telling you about."

"Uncle Sammy?! I was wondering when I was finally gonna get to meet you! Dad always said you were _four_ whole years younger than him but you're so tall!"

Alice chuckled. "Well, Noah, you may one day be taller than Cara."

"That would be SO AWESOME!"

Alice winced at picked at an eardrum. She lightly slapped him on the back of the shoulder. "Alright mister, go upstairs and take a shower; you smell." The boy started to complain. "I promise Dad will still be here when you get back. Right?"

"Right," said Dean.

Once Noah left and the three adults remained, Alice shifted around uncomfortably. "So...what do you guys want for dinner?"

Dean was too busy studying his younger brother's face. "Maybe we should talk outside, Sammy?"

"It's _Sam,"_ he corrected, with much more venom than usual, but was already wrenching open the back door.

They walked to the fence, which was white. A white picket fence life Dean swore he would never have. Sam just scoffed and shook his head.

"Okay man, let it rip." Dean held his arms out wide, waiting for Sam to berate him.

Sam just turned to look at him. "Did you _plan_ Noah?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh! No reason! I'm just trying to figure out if you're incredibly stupid or incredibly ungrateful! I thought it was just stupid, but you know what? I think it's both! I mean I can understand accidentally having one kid. But _two…_ " Sam pointed an irate finger at his brother.

"I'm sorry I never told you I—"

"Dean, _I don't care_ that you never told me _at all._ What I _care_ about is the fact you had this great thing in front of you, this _family_ that you take for granted by showing up…. _what? Once_ a year?"

"I stop by every couple months—"

"Oh _sorry._ I mean, it's obviously not enough! I saw Cara's reaction when she opened that door!" Sam was seeing his brother in front of him, but it was like he was meeting his actual brother for the first time. There had been a whole chunk, a whole aspect, a whole facet of Dean's life Sam had no _clue_ about. And Dean was a _father._ It made Sam reevaluate every word, action, and move Dean had ever made, every motivation he'd ever had.

"She's just very reserved—"

"Oh cut the crap and man up! How could you choose me and _Dad_ over Alice and my niece and nephew?"

"Oh so know they're _your_ niece and nephew?"

"Damn right they are Dean!" Sam licked his chapped lips.

"Sam, you were only thirteen when Noah was born—I couldn't exactly leave you alone with Dad. And besides, _I wouldn't abandon my family."_

Face contorting at the jab, Sam strode forward and grabbed Dean by the shirt. "I was going to _college,_ I wasn't abandoning my two children and the mother of my children to fight monsters!"

"Shut up! You don't know Sam!" Dean shoved Sam away. "You think I _like_ being on the road away from those kids and away from Alice? Because of this life I will _never_ be able to be a normal father for them. This life follows you—you know that better than anyone. I don't want them dragged into this!"

When Dean stopped yelling, the brothers stood staring at each other, red faced, panting, hands curled into fists.

Sam took a deep breath and uncurled his hands. "Dean, I could've had what you have. I _almost_ did. And I would give _anything_ to have it all. But I understand that you can't run from this life. It's with you forever. Do they know about the hunting, or any of it?"

Dean shook his head.

"You know, Dean, a few months ago I never would've said this, but I think they should know. I mean, obviously not Cara and Noah right now, but I think Alice should know, so maybe she'll have a shot at protecting them if something were to happen."

Resigned, Dean hung his head and ran a finger through his hair. Ever since the Screaming Angels case which had thankfully ended well, and Dean had made up with Alice, there was a small sliver of his brain that wondered if things would be better if Alice knew. "Something has already happened."

Sam's stomach twisted at those words. "What happened?"

Telling the entire story, beginning with going to Chicago to discover he had a daughter, Dean mentioned how Cara and Noah were almost drowned by two boys later possessed by Sonja and her counterpart, and how the two were leaving trails of dead children, starting where Alice was born, all the way to where they currently lived. He explained Jan, and let Sam know she was someone he needed to meet. He told Sam everything.

While the two brothers talked along the back perimeter of the fence, Sam watched as his brother transformed before his eyes. Turning from a carefree womanizing hunter, he became a father doing the best he could do, who cared deeply for his children and their mother.

One particular thing was the discord created between Dean and their father. Sam knew Dean would defend the man until his last breath-something he had never been able to grasp his entire life. And Dean's refusal to accept John's infallibility seemed even more ridiculous now that Sam knew Dean was a father-an exceptionally better one than their own, it seemed.

That was one of the many things Sam wanted to ask Dean, but he figured as time went on, things would reveal themselves or new opportunities for questions would be presented.

Back in business mode, Dean was composed, more agreeable, a weight lifted off his shoulders. "That's not the only reason we came here. I actually did find a case, by chance. A town over, a family was slaughtered, parents and two sons. I did some digging and I found that they had a teenage daughter who killed herself in the house a year ago—almost exactly to the day."

"What are the cops saying?" Sam crossed his arms across his chest.

"Murder-suicide. Dad snapped under the pressure of life and the grief of his daughter, you know how it goes. But of course the dad, Martin Greenfield showed no signs of unusual behavior."

Sam shrugged. "I mean, his daughter did kill herself."

"Yeah, but get this, the Greenfield's oldest child, Nadine was away at college when they were murdered. She left for college a few weeks after Rachel offed herself. Nadine told the cops she swore she saw Rachel in the window of her bedroom was she was leaving for school. And again when Nadine came back to the house after the murders."

"Sounds like a vengeful spirit, maybe."

"Seems so," Dean said.

"Is Nadine back at school?" Sam inquired.

Dean scoffed. "Nah. She's staying at the house to get everything settled."

Sam nodded reluctantly. "Of course she is."

* * *

"So what do you think of him?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think of Uncle Sammy?" Cara asked again. Noah had been busy, head bent over in concentration as he practiced his cursive. He hated it-thought it was girly-but he knew he had to do it. He hadn't noticed his sister come into his room and shut the door.

"I think he's great," he responded, half paying attention.

Cara leaned over his shoulder. "Your 'b' looks like an 'l'."

Realizing she was hovering, Noah sat up straight, turning around to glare, which caused her to jump back. "It was fine until you messed me up."

"I didn't do anything," Cara shot back, defensively.

"You distracted me."

"Sorry. But you like Uncle Sammy?"

Focus completely gone, Noah shut his handwriting book, and turned so he was facing Cara. "Yeah. He seems really nice."

"Yeah, he does," Cara agreed silently, she looked down at the ground.

Eyes half closed, Noah glanced up at his sister. She was leaning against the wall, near his bed. Her glasses were falling down her nose-he was glad he hadn't needed them. But she didn't notice there were on the verge of falling off her face.

Eyes suddenly flicking up, Cara adjusted her glasses as she came out of her reverie. "Why do you think Dad never brought Uncle Sammy around until now?"

Noah shrugged. He didn't really think about that. Their dad's life was something that was a mystery to them, and he was okay with that. He was just grateful enough his dad had finally come back, after a year of his mom and sister thinking they'd never seem him again. Noah didn't want to rock the boat by asking. He was afraid the wrong question would drive Dad away, so he would take what he could get with a smile on his face. "Don't know."

That response frustrated Cara. "But why not? He has a whole nother life away from us-"

"Can't you just be happy he's here?" Noah snapped quietly.

"But what if he leaves again?"

"He's not gonna leave again. He promised!"

Irritated with her brother's seeming naivete, Cara stormed away from the door and pulled open his door in anger. "FYI, people can break promises, Noah."

And with a slam of the door, Cara was gone.

* * *

"Noah, would you grab the napkins? And Cara? Can you please get everyone a glass?" Alice asked as she set the pot of pasta on the trivet, atop the dining room table. "Dean, you wanna grab that bottle of wine? I just bought it," Alice said, as she reentered the kitchen.

"Sure thing."

Sam awkwardly watched everyone moving around the kitchen while he sat alone at the dining room table. He had tried to help them, but Alice-and even Dean-had insisted he sit and enjoy himself. He was a guest, according to them. Craning his head to see into the kitchen, Sam quickly readjusted himself when Dean emerged with the bottle of wine and three wine glasses. He awkwardly set one in front of Sam. "I know we usually have crappy beer but…"

"It's great. Thanks Dean," Sam responded woodenly, feeling like he needed to be extremely polite and formal.

After pouring Sam, himself, and Alice a glass, Dean set down the wine bottle and sighed. "Relax, Sammy, a ghost isn't about to pop out and attack you."

With a nervous chuckle, Sam took a sip of the wine. "That's how I feel, actually."

Dean smirked. "Felt the same exact way when I found out about all this." He clapped Sam on the shoulder and took a seat beside his brother.

A few minutes later, everyone was seated around the table and Alice asked everyone to grab hands so they could bless the food.

More baffled by the ease of which Dean bowed his head and grabbed hands with the people on either side of him, Sam quickly copied everyone, eyes shut tight as Alice said a quick prayer.

"Amen. Let's dig in."

A chorus of chirps erupted as as every began to ask for food out of reach, while passing the food to others and grabbing the nearby dishes for themselves.

Sam quietly watched the interaction from the corner he sat at. Directly across from him was Alice, with Cara beside her. Dean was to his right, and to Dean's left was Noah. Watching how the four talked to and regarded one another was fascinating. Seeing Dean step into the role of father was something Sam could hardly comprehend before they came here. Seeing Alice grown and fulfilled made Sam feel happy for her. And seeing two children that Dean had helped create-that were related to Sam-just function and live was the biggest miracle.

 _So this is what is feels like to have a family_ , Sam thought with bittersweetness. He took another sip of his wine and tried to pretend this wasn't all earth shattering to him. However, after a few minutes, he excused himself and quietly pushed in his chair, leaving through the front door.

There was a silence after Sam's abrupt departure. Dean knew it was a lot for his brother, and he gave a glance to Alice as he dropped his napkin.

"No, let me," Alice insisted as she pushed back her chair before Dean could even stand up. "I'll talk to him."

"You sure," Dean asked, unsure.

She smiled. "I got it." She reached across the table and gave Dean a kiss, full on the lips, much to the chagrin of both of their children.

"Oh be quiet," Alice responded lightly to Cara and Noah, as she moved towards the front door.

"Listen to your mother," Dean echoed as the two continued to complain, while he watched as Alice disappeared outside.

* * *

Shutting the front door behind her, Alice squinted around in the darkness, trying to adjust to the lack of light. After several attempts at scanning, she spotted Sam sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, parked in the driveway.

Moving towards the iconic car, Alice felt nervous. She was meeting Sam for the first time in over ten years, and also, she had heard enough about that car that was enough to make her feel jealous t to the point of absurdity.

Reaching for the driver's handle and sliding into the car, Alice surprised Sam. Realizing who it was, he sat up straighter and looked forward. "Hi," he said stiffly.

"Hi Sam. I'm sure you were expecting your brother."

He shrugged. He hadn't really been expecting anybody. He was kind of hoping to be left alone so he could sort himself out. "You should go back inside and enjoy your dinner. Sorry I ruined it."

"Why would you think you ruined it?"

Sam sat there, contemplating for a moment. "I-"

"I know it's new. But Sam, you should've seen how Dean reacted to finding out he had a daughter. It's a lot, and you're just fine to take your time."

"Alice?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"When I told you we were leaving…"

Alice turned her whole body towards Sam. "In Broken Bow?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Were you...pregnant? Did you know you were...pregnant when I told you?"

"Does it matter?" Alice asked quietly.

"It makes a difference to me," Sam responded.

She took a deep breath. "No. I didn't know. Not until after you guys left."

She hadn't known. No longer a middle schooler in a dusty library, Sam came back to the present, in which a weight lifted itself off his shoulders. If she hadn't known that meant Sam hadn't had a hand in the fact his niece and nephew had a father who came and went. He wasn't the reason they almost didn't have a father.

Shoulders slumping forward, Sam let out a breath he had been holding since they had knocked on the door of the gray brick house. Like when they had first pulled up, Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, looking at a house he wasn't a part of, a place he didn't understand.

"I've been hoping Dean would tell you about us for a long time."

Sam shrugged. "I guess the timing was never right."

They were silent for a moment. "Sam, I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything."

"Still though."

"Thanks." Sam numbly accepted her condolences.

"Well, things may have been rough for awhile, but Sam, you have a family that would really like to meet you." Alice stared at the side of his face. His long hair covered most of his side profile so she couldn't really tell what he wa thinking. From what she remembered about Sam, he was always good at concealing how he really felt. Alice knew because she had done the same.

In the silence, Sam realized Alice was waiting for a response. She was waiting for him to get up and go back inside. However, if he did that, that meant an era of his life was over. It officially meant he was leaving Jess behind and moving on with his life. It was easy to pretend things were static when he and Dean went on hunt after hunt after hunt. It was predictable, redundant, and maybe a little underwhelming at times. But in those situations, he knew what to expect. They would stay in a place for about a week and then leave it in the dust. But if he went inside, he would be going into a place he would likely come back to again and again. If he went inside, he was an uncle, and Dean was a father.

If he went inside, Dean got everything Sam ever wanted and Sam became everything he thought Dean was. Although Sam didn't want the life anymore, if make his heart ache for Jess all the more. This should've been his and her life.

"Sam? Are you alright?" Alice asked quietly. They hadn't spoken for several minutes, space seeming to have spaced out.

It was obvious to Sam Alice had retained her compassion for others. It took a special kind of person-a teenager no less-to be willing to spend their free time tutoring petulant middle schoolers. Still, he didn't need her pity. He didn't need her to feel bad for him.

"Does Dean make you happy?"

"What?" Alice hadn't been expecting that. She thought this conversation was exclusively about how he was feeling. She felt an unsure pit in her stomach when Sam brought up his brother.

"Of course he does. He's a good father." Alice didn't think now was the time to tell Sam how many times Dean had broken her heart, how he had broken his children's hearts. She didn't know if it was an issue Sam needed to be made aware of. At least at this time, it wasn't necessary.

"You know, I never would've pictured him as a father."

Alice nodded. "I don't think he pictured himself as one either."

"And he's a good father?"

"Yes."

Sam didn't know to what ends he was asking Alice. He figured he was just checking up on the happiness and safety of a woman and her two kids. But it was more than that. He wanted to know about the mother of his brother's children. He wanted to know about Cara and Noah and what they were like.

He wanted a family, but he didn't want to leave Jess behind.

"Sam, I never want you to feel like an outsider or a stranger. This is your family too now."

"It'll take me some time."

She nodded. "I know. Why don't we go inside and-"

"I think I'll just-"

"Really, I don't think you're doing yourself any favors by sitting in the car."

Stunned by Alice's sudden brusqueness, Sam regarded her with wide eyes.

She held up her hands. "Sorry, but I've learned it's better to rip off the bandaid than slowly peel it off. Jump in head first...you know?"

It was strange to see Alice be anything but passive. Her assertiveness almost came off as aggressiveness, and Sam was so unused seeing her act like. To be fair, his marker for how he thought she should act was her as a shy high schooler. He hadn't seen her in over ten years. But to be fair, she hadn't either.

He wanted to tell her to leave him alone but grudgingly exited the car. He figured by himself sitting in the car, it was something Dean would confront him about and something Alice may hold onto for a long time.

It was easier for everyone if Sam stopped being a drama queen.

Pleased with herself, Alice followed Sam back into the house and the two sat down. Alice nodded minutely at Dean and the meal restarted as if nothing had ever happened.

* * *

The next day, while the kids were at school and Alice was at work, Sam and Dean dressed in their usual FBI garb and headed over to the Greenfield residence. At last night's dinner, Sam had gotten to know Cara and Noah a little better and got to catch up with Alice. He was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact Dean was a father and he was now an uncle. But he woke up the next morning feeling more sure about everything. Maybe Alice was right when she said he needed a push.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he and Dean slammed the doors of the Impala and walked up the steps of the red brick home. They knocked on the door, and a few moments later, a young woman pulled the door open. Her hair was unwashed, thrown into a haphazard bun. She wore an oversized flannel and had terribly baggy eyes. "Y-yes?"

"Nadine Greenfield?"

"Uh-huh?" She squinted her eyes at them, as if she couldn't make them out.

"We're with the FBI, I'm Agent Dennis Ehart, and this is my partner Agent Michael Ragsdale. Do you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?" Dean and Sam held up the fake badges.

"Why does the FBI care that my dad killed my family?" She questioned with a frown, while seeming entirely unsure of herself.

"Possible cult activity, Miss Greenfield."

She blanched at the response. "My dad passed out communion every Sunday."

Nadine paused and scrutinized them again. "Does this have something to do with what I told the police? What _they_ called 'trauma'?" Both brothers caught the skeptical, slightly sarcastic tone in which she spoke in.

Dean composed himself. "Partially, yes miss. We just like to cover all the bases. May we come in?"

She nodded and held the door open for them.

The house was a disaster. The floors were completely ripped up and the walls were all half painted. They passed a room that had a tarp on the ground, the walls were completely white. Nadine pointed. "The cops said that's where he did it. Lined them up on their knees, shot them one after the other. Started with my youngest brother, ended with my mom. Execution style." She pointed to the corner of the room. "That's where he slit his wrists. Cops said his body was still warm they found them." She paused and looked at them hardly. "But of course the FBI would already know that."

Sam and Dean nodded, but noted how detached the girl was trying to sound. She sniffled and turned on her foot into the living room, slowly lowering herself into a loveseat across from the couch she indicated for them.

Sam pulled out a notepad while Dean asked the questions. "So, you were away at college when it happened?"

"They called me that night and I saw it on the news the next morning."

"And to the best of your knowledge, was your dad acting strangely?"

"Well, like I said, I was away at school so I don't really know. When I talked to my mom and dad on the phone and everything sounded fine. But let me tell you one thing: after Rachel killed herself, my dad was the one that kept this family together. He started going to church more regularly, cut back on his hours at work just to spend time with us kids to make sure we were all okay."

"And how did Rachel kill herself?"

"She overdosed on sleeping pills. My mom found her."

"And did Rachel show any signs of depression or suicidal thoughts before?"

Nadine nodded. "When she was thirteen, she tried to commit suicide by slitting her wrists in the tub. That was the only other attempt. But she started to get better after that. Everyone thought she was fine. The cops think my dad slitting his wrists was some sort of sick tribute to Rachel."

"Now…" Sam shuffled through his notes. "There's a statement from you saying you thought you saw Rachel from your bedroom window as the car was pulling out of the driveway. This was of course as you were leaving for college. And then, you told the cops that you thought you saw Rachel walk from the room in which your family died to the kitchen the day you came back?"

"I retracted that statement," she said quickly. "I was hysterical. My family is dead. It was trauma, like they said." Clamping her mouth shut, Nadine straightened herself and crossed her arms. She completely changed her tune from earlier. It was evident the girl was afraid and confused.

Sam leaned forward slightly. "Nadine, please, tell us what you told the police."

"We promise we'll believe you," Dean added. "Please. It would help us out a lot."

Chewing on her tongue, Nadine seemed to dismiss the request, but then seemed to ponder it. She leaned forward, giving them a strong look. "You know, you two seem more trusting than the cops, so I'll tell you what I was smart enough not to tell them.

"Rachel was angry everyday of her life. She would yell at my mom, fight with my dad, threaten our little brothers. She liked to steal my things: money, clothes, boyfriends. I guess if she couldn't be happy, none of us could. And the night before she died, she got into this massive blow out fight with every single person in this household, after which, she shut herself up in the room we shared and I went to go sleep over at a friend's house, just to get away from the tension. And the next morning—similar to the call I got a week ago—well you know.

"And through all of this, I'd sooner believe that my dead sister made my father kill our family than him actually doing it. He was a good man. So you know what? You can go ahead and call me crazy. I've certainly been called worse."

Stilled, Sam shifted and looked at Nadine straight in the face. "We don't think you're crazy. But if you truly believe the spirit of your sister did that, why in the hell would you want to stay in this house?"

Nadine flopped back almost flippantly, a completely vacant expression in her eyes. "Because I have nothing left to lose."

* * *

"That girl should still get out while she can," Dean commented as they left.

Sam glanced at his brother. "Dean, her sister killed herself, and if that wasn't devastating enough, the rest of her family was brutally murdered. If that happened to Alice and Cara and Noah, would you want to go on?"

Dean stopped. "Don't bring them into this. But damn if that girl didn't hit the nail on the head with this one. Still, she's a sitting duck in that house."

"Well, I say we burn the body. We can head over to the cemetery tonight," Sam suggested.

* * *

Sam and Dean had just finished reburying Rachel, who was now a pile of ash. During that time frame, Dean's phone rang. He answered it, talked brusquely to the other person and hung up, clenching the phone to his forehead.

Noticing Dean's aggravation, Sam dropped the shovels into the trunk of the Impala. "What is it? Is it Alice?"

"No. It was Nadine. She just said Rachel's spirit attacked her."

"What? Just now?"

Dean nodded gruffly. "Yeah. The spirit must be connected to something in the house."

Sam shook his head. "Did Nadine at least get out of the house?"

"Yeah. She's staying at the Hewitt Co. Hotel. Told her we'd be there in fifteen. Come on."

* * *

Nadine quickly let the boys into her hotel room and locked the door shut behind them. They noted the scratches on the side of her face. "I can't go back to that house. I don't know why I did that in the first place."

Sam was quick to reassure her. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Just tell us what happened."

Nadine swallowed, and pulled a blanket around her shoulders. "I was getting myself a midnight snack and I turned around and Rachel was standing there behind me. She was so pale. Anyways, she clawed me across the face and shoved me. I landed against the oven and grabbed a frying pan that was sitting on the stove. It was the closest thing I could find. I swung it at her and she vanished. I got the hell out of the house after that and came here."

"That was the right thing to do, Nadine. Do you happen to know if the frying pan was made out of iron?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. There was a whole set my parents got for their wedding. Why?"

"Because," Dean said. "Iron repels ghosts. So does salt."

Nadine appraised them. "Of course it does. Well, I'll take it you guys aren't FBI. But, that also means I'm not crazy and the ghost of my sister really did kill my family. And now she wants to kill me?"

Sam nodded. "You're right. I'm Sam, this is my brother, Dean. We hunt ghosts and monsters." She just continued to nod slowly, not really sure if she should be reassured by that or not.

Dean tried to be gentle with his words. "Listen, Nadine, the way to stop a vengeful spirit is to burn the bones."

Nadine's mind lingered on the word 'vengeful'. She stared at the two. "Are you asking permission to burn my sister's bones?"

The two exchanged sheepish glances. "Actually," Dean said, "We already kind of did. We were reburying her when you called to tell us what happened. That usually does the trick. But, it's also possible for a spirit to be attached to an object. Did Rachel have a prized possession, some object that was symbolic to her?"

Nadine was about to suggest something when the lights flickered.

Both brothers moved towards Nadine when they saw the apparition of a young girl with matted brown hair wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a stained white camisole. With a malevolent look on her face, Rachel grabbed Nadine around the neck and began to choke her, dragging her older sister backwards as she went.

Dean grabbed the iron crowbar from his duffle and swung at Rachel until she disappeared like a vapor.

Sam went over to Nadine and comforted the girl, making sure she was okay. "Did you bring anything of Rachel's with you here?"

Nadine shook her head.

"Okay, okay, come on." Sam pulled a chair from the middle of the room and sat Nadine down in it. He quickly drew a circle of salt around her. "Don't leave this circle."

"No problem," Nadine agreed in a hoarse voice. She rubbed her throat.

"And you're sure there's nothing of hers here, Nadine?" Dean demanded. He went and began to rifle through Nadine's stuff anyways. She didn't protest.

"There has to be _something,_ " Sam rationed. "Rachel was able to follow us to the hotel. _Think_ Nadine, anything. A key chain, a sock, a piece of hair, hell, even a toenail that somehow got into your bag. _Anything_ with Rachel's DNA or something that she considered her own."

"DNA?" Nadine asked without moving her mouth.

"Yeah. Why? What are you thinking?"

"Would blood count?"

Sam nodded. "Well, yeah. But just because the two of you are related and share blood, that still doesn't count."

"No, listen. It was right after Rachel tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists. I must have been fourteen at the time, but Rachel was home and she was depressed. She wouldn't eat. All she would do was lay in bed. She didn't even have any energy to argue, which was uncharacteristic of her. I was worried and didn't know what to do. So, I did what any big sister would do, and I made her a promise." Nadine wiped some tears from her eyes.

"What did you promise her, Nadine?" Dean almost growled. He shoved her bag aside, articles of clothing and possessions scattering across the bed and floor.

Nadine was the closest to tears the boys had ever seen her. She sniffled and tried to cover up the pain with ironic, unfunny laughs. "You probably think I would've promised to be there for her and talk to her and tell her everything would be okay.

"I didn't believe that everything would be okay. I knew she wouldn't ever be the same again. An important piece of her died the night she slit her wrists.

"Anyway, I didn't know how I would be okay if she killed herself. So I promised her, if she killed herself, I would join her in the way she meant to leave the world the first time so she wouldn't be alone. I thought I would be rebalancing nature or something like that.

"I know, I know, pretty dark stuff for a fourteen-year-old to promise a thirteen-year-old."

But she wasn't finished yet.

Nadine wiped her eyes again, determined not to cry. "Rachel didn't believe me, even when I swore on the Bible and our parent's graves. So, we made a blood pact. I took these little green scissors that were sitting on my desk and sliced my thumb open. She did the same and we pushed our thumbs together."

Nadine turned slightly to be able to see both boys.

"Is this why this is happening? Did my sister kill our family because of this unfulfilled promise?"

"Nadine, we can't know that for sure. All we know is that your sister's spirit is connected to you thanks to that nifty little ceremony you two did as tweens."

"Dean," Sam cautioned his brother at the biting tone.

"I know it was a stupid thing to do, but we do stupid things for our family," Nadine reasoned. She paused and glanced at the two. "Judging from the looks on your faces, I don't assume draining all my blood and somehow replacing it would work?" she asked with mostly sarcasm.

They shook their heads.

"So…what then?" Nadine asked slowly.

Dean cupped his face and slid the hand down. "You're not gonna like it."

"Well?" Nadine tried again, pointedly.

Dean and Sam exchanged a desperate look, wishing there was something else they could tell her.

Dean sighed. "If that blood pact is legitimate, that means Rachel is connected to _you_. She won't rest until you fulfill the promise you made her." Dean looked at the girl's socked feet inside the salt ring when he spoke.

Nadine nodded. "Well, then I'm a dead girl walking."

Sam stirred. "Nadine, don't say that." Though, he couldn't seem to believe what he was saying. The girl was right.

Processing what they were saying, Nadine slowly rose from the chair. "So either I wait until the angry ghost of my sister guts me, or I die on my own terms." She moved to step out of the salt circle, but Sam stopped her.

"Hold on, just sit down. We'll figure something out." The brothers turned and moved to the corner of the room.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Dean demanded.

"We can't just let that girl die!" he exclaimed.

Dean scoffed. "Funny how you changed your mind. Yesterday you were saying she didn't have anything to live for."

"But what are you gonna do, Dean? Hand her a knife so she can kill herself? Or maybe do it for her?"

Incensed, Dean shifted his weight, lowering his voice to a sharp whisper. "What else are we gonna do? Tell Nadine to carry an iron frying pan around with her for the rest of her life? Tell her to circle her bed with salt when she sleeps? That's no way to live. Sam, I hate it as much as you do, but Nadine's life is binding her sister's spirit here. Neither girl will know peace until they're both dead. And as long as Nadine is still alive, Rachel is not only be a threat to her, but everyone else Nadine comes in contact with."

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. There's got to be some hoodoo or spell or something that'll—"

"Sam. Dean."

The brothers spun around.

Nadine was standing in the middle of the room, the circle of salt around her broken.

As both brothers lurched towards Nadine, Rachel appeared in front of her sister, as if to protect her. Rachel's arm shot out and flung both boys back against opposite walls. Dean was knocked out immediately and Sam hit his head on the way down.

Nadine looked at him mournfully as the ghost of her sister hovered in front of her. "I'm sorry. I have to do what I have to."

And then he was gone.

Sadly, Nadine took in her sister's appearance. Rachel was wearing the outfit she wore when she fought with her family members for the last time. The outfit she killed herself in.

Rachel's face shifted somewhere between angry and sad. She raised a hand to harm her sister.

"Rachel, wait."

Rachel hesitated, frowning at Nadine.

Nadine felt a silent sob ravage her body. "I'm sorry." Rachel frowned.

The living sister continued. "I'm sorry I broke my promise to you. I went on living and you were trapped here because of me. I want to make things right." Nadine walked over to the army green duffle bag Sam and Dean brought with them. She unsheathed a glistening knife and headed into the bathroom.

Nadine sat on the edge of the tub as the water filled up. She stared at the knife in her hands, and then at Rachel who hovered in the doorway.

"You know, I don't blame you for what happened to our family. It was horrible, but it wasn't your fault."

Reaching forward, Nadine turned off the water and fully-clothed, lowered herself into the tub. Water overflowed from the sides and sloshed onto the tile floor. Rachel fritzed out and reappeared, kneeling at the edge of the tub, translucent hands curled over the side. She stared at Nadine with an almost distrustful frown.

Peeling back soaking wet sleeves, Nadine made two vertical slices on each wrist and dropped the knife onto the floor. She submerged both arms underwater and leaned deeper into the tub. She took some deep breaths to steady her heart, and slowly felt her body becoming heavier and weaker.

Just before she lost the ability to keep her eyes open, Nadine turned her head fractionally to Rachel who was still there. "You'll be at peace, Rachel. Our whole family can be together forever." Nadine's eyes shut and she lost consciousness.

Rachel continued to stare at her sister, her spirit still connected to Nadine's waning life. Eventually, Nadine's head fell completely to the side.

Rachel's spirit pulsated a couple times, and then slowly faded into nothing, just as quietly and painlessly as her sister left this world.

* * *

Sam regained consciousness as quickly as someone blinking. He was up, gun in hand, yelling Nadine's name.

"Sam." Dean emerged from the bathroom and shook his head.

Sam pushed past his brother, and held himself in the door frame. There was Nadine, pale, in a tub of red, eyes closed, and head cradled against her shoulder. There was a knife with several red specks on the ground beside the tub.

"If everyone were half as brave as her…" He trailed off and walked back into the main room.

Dean stared for a moment then shut the door to the bathroom.

* * *

"It's just awful," Alice said as she picked up some dirty dishes from the table. "I just read this in the newspaper. Some family just a town over. Dead. It started with one of their daughter's killing herself. Then the father went crazy and slaughtered his wife and two youngest children. The oldest daughter came back home and killed herself out of grief. Just tragic. It's hard to believe something like that would happen here. Especially after everything involving those boys." Dean's jaw twitched at the mention of the Hanratty brothers.

"It could happen anywhere, to anyone." Dean offered gruffly, still thinking how unfair it was that everyone would forever think Nadine killed herself because she couldn't handle living anymore. But he knew Alice didn't need to be told it couldn't happen to anyone.

Alice studied Dean for a minute but decided whatever was eating at him was not a can worth opening. "Where's Sam?" she asked.

"Bar."

"Huh. Doesn't seem like much of a drinker."

Dean shrugged. "If the occasion calls for it."

Alice stared at him again and shook her head. There was a thud upstairs and she very quickly heard Noah muttering apologies to Cara. Cara told Noah to get out, and there was a door slam. Dean didn't seem to hear.

"There something you want to ask me?"

"What?" Alice was at the sink scraping off a casserole pan.

"You look like you have something you want to say."

"Nope."

Dean came up right beside her and dropped a plate into the sink belligerently. "I know you're smart, Alice. I know you probably have a million questions about where I go, what I do. Hell, you probably even have a few ideas."

Alice stepped away from the sink and glared at him. "What's gotten into you? Have _you_ been drinking?"

"I wish, Allie cat." A look of despair suddenly crossed Dean's face.

"Why do you want me to ask, Dean?" Alice demanded. She moved further away from Dean and crossed her arms. "This arrangement we have has worked for over ten years."

Dean scoffed. "What? You mean the one where I show up every so often, stay for a couple days, and then leave and break my kids' hearts? Remember when I didn't stop by for over a year, or even call you? Damn Allie, it's no wonder Cara's been acting so cold and distant. She doesn't want to be hurt again. By her own father of all people. And Noah thinks every bad thing that happens between us is his fault."

Alice strode forward and poked Dean in the chest. " _I_ didn't make you stay away. I told you to go, but I didn't tell you to never come back. You came and went on your own accord. I figured it was better Cara and Noah at least knew who their father was, even if only a couple times a year. But if you're saying you want to leave, then go ahead. I'll tell the kids I made you go." Tears began to prick her eyes. She didn't mean it. She didn't want to lose him again. But if he wanted it, she didn't want to hold him back, as much as it would hurt.

"Why do you do that? Why do you paint yourself as the villain and not hold anything against me?"

"I don't want them to resent their father any more than they have to," she said quietly, then raised her voice. "Because it's the only way I can stay sane! I can't hold grudges or drag myself down with negativity—it's too easy! Dean, you remember me in high school, always down about one thing or another? That was a miserable way to live! If I continually speculated where you went, I would spiral and drive myself crazy. I can't afford to do that with two kids."

Alice slumped against the counter in exhaustion. "What we have works, Dean, as well as anything in this world can work." He'd heard that mantra before.

Dean stood up and moved towards Alice, grabbing her hands. "There's a whole part of me you don't know about, Alice. That's actually part of the reason Sam went to the bar—because he thinks I'm a major hypocrite. And he's right."

Alice scoffed. "What? You think _I'm_ a saint? Two kids by the time I was nineteen?"

"Yes," Dean said in all seriousness.

Eyes closed, she shook her head. "You're…rough around the edges Dean, I've always known that."

"Sweetheart, you have no idea."

"And that's okay with me. But I feel like you're gonna tell me anyway."

Dean nodded. "It's for your safety and the kid's. I know you're an excellent mother, but there are some things you don't know."

Alice narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything.

With clenched teeth, he looked down at the ground. "I'm going to tell you this, and then maybe someday, your or I, or the both of us will tell Cara and Noah."

Alice gave Dean a look like she were meeting a stranger for the first time.

She couldn't think of anything to say.

The two sat down on a couch in the family room and Dean told her everything.

He started with how his mother died by burning on the ceiling over Sam's crib—at six months old, that bit of information clarified some things—and how his father sort of lost it after that. Alice learned how Dean and his brother were raised, how they traveled and hunted things straight out of the nightmares of her children. Sam ran away when he was eighteen to go to college and be normal. There was no normal, according to Dean, not when you were immersed in this your whole life. Alice had known Sam left for college, and she had always wondered why Dean mentioned it like Sam was dead to the family. And then Dean reached out to Sam after years of not speaking to tell him their father was missing, assumedly hunting down the thing that killed their mother. And that thing—a _demon_ —killed Sam's girlfriend. So now there was even more motivation to hunt the son of a bitch down.

One of the most shocking bits of news was finding out Alice's Aunt Jan was a hunter as well. Internally, Alice supposed that explained some of her aunt's oddities, but made her question everything about her family.

He could tell Alice wanted to cry when he began to mention the Hanratty boys and the Screaming Angels case, which led to radio silence for more than a year, a year he knew had almost destroyed his family.

Eyes glistening, Alice leaned forward and wrapped her arm around Dean's torso. She felt herself begin to shake. Every time he had left, it had been for a reason. And when he had left them for over a year, it was to keep them safe. "I was so horrible to you every time you left. And you had _so_ much to deal with."

Feeling a balloon popping in his chest, Dean felt a strange mixture of relief and guilt. There was relief he no longer had to life to Alice anymore, but there was a sinking feeling that he had burdened her with something she shouldn't have ever had to deal with. "I never wanted you to be afraid, Allie. I never wanted you to worry about me."

Chin resting on his chest, Alice looked up at him. "You should've told me. I would've helped you carry the weight. That's what I'm here for."

All he ever wanted to do was protect her and the kids. "From now on," he promised.

Dean was patient as Alice absorbed and processed everything he was saying. It took her awhile, but finally, she managed to sit upright. "So even when you weren't around, I was still surrounded by all of this," Alice muttered numbly, thinking of the demons that had come after he children. They were in so much danger and she hadn't even known.

Dean nodded. "Guess so."

Alice's eyes flicked up. "There must be some other reason you came here, then. Especially with Sam."

Guiltily, Dean hesitated but spoke up when Alice continued to glare. " There was a case family that was massacred—they were killed by the spirit of the daughter who killed herself. The living sister killed herself to keep her dead sister's spirit at bay. And for Sam, he reached the end of his rope. We both needed a break. And it was time to tell him."

"Of course." Alice sounded skeptical, but Dean caught her flicking some tears out of her eyes. She looked at him. "So what do we do now?"

"Well, Allie, now you know what's out there. Salt, silver, and holy water will protect you against pretty much anything. Those are some good basics to have. Iron is also a must. Especially one of these." Dean thoughtfully dug into his pocket and produced the casing of an iron bullet.

"What, do you use guns?" She chuckled almost in disbelief.

Dean lifted up his shirt so Alice could see the pearl handle of his gun.

She nodded and looked away pretty quickly.

"That's a gun," she said.

Dean chuckled. "Yep. You're right. Can I ask you something?"

With pursed lips, Alice said, "With slightly pressed luck, go ahead."

Looking like a middle schooler on his first date, Dean's face flashed through several different emotions until he finally settled on absolute seriousness. Even though the situation was heavy and dark, Alice had to suppress a laugh.

Dean's face dampened even further into seriousness. "I want to teach you how to shoot a gun, Alice."

"Okay," she said, face splitting into a slight grin. She was surprised after this, she still retained that ability to feel so light. It pleased her.

He grimaced. "Why is that funny? That's serious. Now, have you ever shot a gun before?"

Alice shrugged like it was nothing. "Sure. My Uncle Don—Aunt Jan's husband—had a hunting cabin up in Wisconsin. I visited it a couple times. Not that I was any good, but yes, I have handled a shotgun before. Never told my parents though. They probably would've died of a heart attack. You know, after the two grandkids out of wedlock"

Impressed, Dean nodded. "Alright. I was thinking more of a handgun, which'll be easier to handle than a shotgun. Gotta say, It's kind of a turn on."

* * *

The house was quiet. The kids were at school and Sam and Dean were God knows where. Usually, she enjoyed the days when she was off and could enjoy some peace and quiet. Only now, there was no peace and the quiet was twice as deafening.

Jumping at the creak of the floorboards beneath her bare feet, Alice grabbed the kitchen phone to make a call.

The line rang several times before the phone was picked up on the other end. "Allie, you know this is my prime time to watch my shows."

Feeling herself smirk, Alice remembered the Spanish telenovelas Jan was obsessed with.

"I forgot. But I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I bet you did. I'd wanna talk to me to."

Alice bit her lip, thinking.

"What? I'm not funny anymore?" Jan paused for a moment. "What's wrong?"

The question triggered something in Alice and she felt herself let out a sob. Covering her mouth, Alice tried to steady herself before she attempted to talk into the phone. "Dean told me."

The older woman didn't even have to ask what about. "I've been waiting for this call for a long time."

"What? You knew he was gonna tell me?"

"I didn't say that. I just figured eventually he would. Thing would've been so much easier if you knew."

Alice thought about all the sacrifices Dean had to make to keep the secret. "Yeah. I agree. But he told me you're a hunter too?"

"Ish. I only really hunt when someone I know is directly in danger or someone asks for my help. I don't go looking for a fight anymore. This dog is too old for that."

"Thought you weren't old."

Jan laughed. "You almost got me there. I'm not _that_ old."

"Of course not. But...can I ask you how you became a hunter?"

"Sure. I figured you'd be curious. It was college-"

"The beginning to every great story."

"Certainly a memorable one. I was probably a sophomore, so not even twenty yet and a girl in my sorority was brutally murdered."

"Oh my God," Alice murmured. "But there's more to it, isn't there."

"Yeah it was crazy. The whole thing seemed like an animal attack. The girl's heart was gone. And some guys-saying they were the FBI-came down and started asking all kinds of strange questions. The whole things was weird to me.

"So you know, being the rebel I was, I wanted to be helpful, try and figure out who the killer was. I thought if I could solve the whole thing by myself I could prove something.

"I don't know what I was trying to prove, but apparently I wasn't the only one who was thinking the same thing. A guy from our brother fraternity who had been close to the girl who had been murdered was also poking around, wondering the same things I was wondering. He thought the whole thing was weird, too.

"So, the two of us kind of began to work together to try to make sense of everything. And as you'd expect, we were some stupid college kids who thought we could save the world. It almost led to us being killed by a newly turned werewolf, who turned out to be in the same fraternity as the guy I was working with.

"Those 'FBI agents' ended up saving killer was some poor college kid that had no idea what the hell he was doing, but still, I watched those hunters put a silver bullet through his heart."

Alice tried to imagine that. At nineteen, she was already a mother, but in many ways, was still more naive than Jan had been at the same age. "That's wild," she commented quietly.

"Yeah. Although, I didn't really start hunting until my junior year. Never told my parents or Sherry. You know how they are."

"Yeah."

"But you know, as earth shattering as that was, something good came out of that."

"What?"

"That boy who I was playing Nancy Drew with? His name was Donald Sutton."

Alice felt herself laugh. "It was Uncle Don?"

"Yeah. Allie, he was so handsome. A handsome, stubborn idiot."

"He was a good man."

"He was the best man I've ever known. Look, I don't know if you're planning on hunting now or what-"

"I wasn't I just-"

"Listen, Allie, just be careful, whatever you're gonna do. Especially with kids."

"I don't know what to do about Cara and Noah."

"There's no easy decision, trust me."

"I didn't think there was. Aunt Jan?"

"Yeah sweetie?"

"How did Uncle Don die?"

"The way you'd expect. During a hunt. Look, Allie, I've really gotta go, but you should call me soon. Have Dean call me too if he's not too busy. I love you. Bye."

The line went dead and Alice was left listening to the dial tone.

Slowly moving the phone away from her ear, Alice laid her head down on the counter and wept.

* * *

Sam smiled awkwardly and slowly took a seat at the table. He tried to remind himself this was something he and Jess had always wanted, but he had realized: without her, he didn't want it anymore. So he really didn't know how he was supposed to act right now, the 'what could be' in front of him, now, the 'what never would be.'

Cara sat across the table from him. She was slouched forward so her chin rested on the table, making it look like she had a dismembered head. A dismembered head with an unwavering, accusatory gaze. A bowl of steaming mac and cheese was set off to the side.

"So…do you play sports?" Sam knew that Noah was in football. That kid could talk your ear off.

"No."

"No dance? Nothing?"

"No. And dance isn't a sport."

"Do you like school?" He knew she liked to read.

"No."

"Well…are you enjoying the weekend?!" He tried to pump some enthusiasm into his voice.

"Not particularly."

Perhaps with another kid, it would be easy to know how to interact with them. Noah was quite easy to entertain and talk to, since you really didn't have to do anything but listen. But Cara, she was another beast entirely.

Sam gave a nervous chuckle and pulled at the collar of his shirt. He stood up and stiffly ambled into the kitchen. Turning, he asked Cara where they kept the glasses.

She pointed to a cabinet near Sam's head.

Filling up the glass with tap water, Sam drank nearly all of it and turned back to the small girl. "Why don't you eat your mac and cheese?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine." Sam would soon learn that was Cara's signature response.

Cara continued to study her uncle and Sam turned around to admire the spice rack. He vigorously rubbed both palms against his eyes and wondered why he'd agreed to this. Dean had taken Alice shooting and Dean had asked Sam if he would be interested in watching Cara and Noah.

Of course Sam had initially said yes—who wouldn't want to get to know a niece and nephew they never knew they had? Only Noah very quickly—but somewhat regretfully—informed Sam that he would be going across the street to play football, as was customary every Saturday.

So that left Sam and Cara alone. Cara had looked quite uncomfortable for the first few minutes after her brother left. However, she let a storm rage inside her head; now she was content to silently critique her uncle. Sam had never quite cared about the judgements of a ten-year-old as much as right now.

"So I saw you like to read. _Of Mice and Men_ was the one you were reading the other day. That's a classic."

Cara quickly stood up, picked up the bowl of macaroni and scraped the noodles it into the garbage disposal and ran it. She rinsed out the bowl and placed it in the other side of the sink. "I'm going for a walk." She brushed past Sam and moved into the coat room. He followed her, watching her sit down on a bench to carefully slip on a pair of white canvas sneakers.

Sam tried to remember being ten years old. Surely, he would want to be able to take a walk alone without an adult hovering over his shoulder. He had been about her age, slightly older, when they had been in Broken Bow. He tried to put himself in her shoes.

But, the difference between him and Cara was the fact Sam knew what was out there. And although she would probably be fine walking around the neighborhood, Sam remembered how paranoid Alice had been about her children ever since Dean told her about hunting. Alice sheepishly admitted she'd made a sign of the cross in holy water on her children's heads while they slept. The least Sam could do was make sure Alice didn't come home to Cara telling her Sam couldn't even keep an eye on one ten-year-old for a few hours.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" Sam was instantly glad he had asked, as opposed to telling her he was coming.

Cara watched him over the lenses of her glasses. "I guess so."

The two left and Cara subtly led the way, always a bit further ahead than Sam, which was a somewhat daunting task. He greatly slowed his pace and she was walking fast, almost power walking.

The subdivision was relatively new, maybe a few years old. The neighborhood was middle class and the families all seemed relatively young, a sort of place where a couple would buy their first real home. It was a vibrant, lively, _safe_ place.

Sam was going to ask if Cara liked it here, but he knew she really didn't know anything else, so she might construe the question as ridiculous or stupid.

"You know," Cara said as they turned a corner, "I don't need a babysitter. I've stayed home alone by myself plenty of times. Even Noah has."

"Well—"

"Something changed."

Sam stopped for a brief second. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean it's normal for Dad to come around every couple of months, but he brought you this time. Why?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know." He paused. "Can I tell you the truth?"

She nodded, seeming to appreciate the honesty.

"I didn't know you and Noah existed until I met you a couple days ago."

For one of the first times, Sam caught a glimpse at a wounded look on Cara's face. It was just a flash, covered up quickly by indifference once again. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to tell a child. He didn't know Cara had just thought Sam had never come to visit them. He didn't know she and Noah had no idea he didn't know who they were. They figured their dad had at least told Sam about them.

"Sam…Uncle Sam, can I ask you something?"

"You can call me whatever you want. And yeah, you can ask me anything."

Cara looked up at Sam, squinting. The lenses of her glasses were now tinted from the sun. "Why did Dad tell us about you, but didn't tell you about us? Does Grandpa Winchester know?"

That almost stopped him in his tracks. Grandpa Winchester. Sam shook his head, not able to picture Dad as a grandfather. "No. _Grandpa_ Winchester doesn't know." And it was probably for the best.

Cara pondered that. "Before you and Uncle Bobby, the only other family member I met was my Great Aunt Janet. We lived with her when we were little. And she's kind of weird."

Sam blinked in surprise. Bobby knew?

Sam barely knew his mom but immediately knew she would've loved being a grandmother. "Well, even though your Grandma Winchester is dead, I know she would've loved to meet you."

Cara actually smiled at that. "My dad said you went to Stanford. That's a really good college, right?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "I was actually gonna go to law school."

"Why aren't you going anymore?"

He sighed. "My girlfriend, Jess…Jessica died and I just couldn't stand to be there anymore." That was the most simplistic version.

"Did you love her?"

 _Damn._ It _still_ hurt to talk about her. "Yeah. Still do."

Cara's brow furrowed for a moment but she didn't say anything. Sam supposed the girl had never truly lost anyone—unless she counted it every time Dean left, which case, the girl had her heart broken a couple times a year. From what Sam had seen of her niece, the thought she did maybe count it. He could never tell Dean that.

"Sam, can I ask you something else?"

"Of course, Cara."

"And can you not tell my mom or dad?"

He paused for a moment."Sure...no problem."

Cara stopped and theatrically turned so she stood in front of her uncle. She adjusted her glasses and huffed when she went to run a finger through her tangled hair. It got stuck and she pulled it out in annoyance.

"What does my dad do? I always ask Mom, but she tells me she doesn't know. But I know that in normal families, the Dad lives at home. We're not even a divorced family."

Sam hesitated. How was he supposed to answer that?

"I know you work with Dad. He told us that much. My mom has said so, too."

Sam's mind cycled through a couple different options, all keeping in mind how Dean and Alice would react. "I think that's something you should ask your parents."

Cara shook her head. "They'll never tell me."

And there was a good reason for that. "Cara," Sam began, "I will personally tell you…when you're older."

With a scoff, Cara spun around and kept walking. "That's a BS answer!" she called over her shoulder.

"Excuse me?" Sam demanded, a little miffed a ten year old had just called him out.

Cara turned and glared at her uncle. "I'm not a kid! I can handle anything you would tell me! And when you say you'll tell me when I'm older? That means you're never gonna tell me!"

Sam sighed and reached out a hand to grab Cara's shoulder. "Look, I know you only met me a couple days ago, but I do care about what happens to you as your uncle. And Cara, I can tell you from experience, _you don't want to know._ And you may not like it, but the reality is, _you are too young to know._ Kiddo, I know it's hard but it's the truth."

With a nod, Cara assumed an air much older than ten. "Thank you, Sam, I appreciate the honesty." She turned and continued to walk down the sidewalk, her posture noticeably better, head held a little higher. Cara definitely saw herself as someone older than ten, but that little girl had no idea. It was just something the adults in her life would try to shield her from.

* * *

"No, no, I really shouldn't."

"Come on, Allie, you just fired a gun about a hundred times."

"Okay, first of all you're over exaggerating."

"Live a little."

"We have two children, you jerk. I can't _live a little_ " Alice smacked Dean on the arm.

Rolling his eyes, Dean leaned away from Alice and turned his head to the side. "I'll have two McDoubles with two large fries. A coke, and a _diet_ coke please." He smirked at the side eye Alice was giving him.

Alice graciously took the food as the two sat, feeling like teenagers. Only this time, the third time was a charm—not like Alice would ever let anything like that happen again. And Dean didn't push. He obviously got satisfaction from somewhere else, and that was just fine with Alice. Don't ask, don't tell.

"What's your father like, Dean?"

Dean frowned, a French fry halfway to his face. He dropped it back into the paper bag. In the decade of on-and-off knowing her, that was something Alice never asked. She'd only heard flitting comments about John Winchester when they were in Broken Bow. Dean rarely ever mentioned his father around her, after that.

"He's a good man, Alice. He's a good man doing the best he can do."

"Will I ever get to meet him?"

Not knowing how to respond, Dean took a massive bite of the cheeseburger.

"Don't you think he'd want to meet his grandchildren?"

Dean wanted to laugh at the suggestion. He believed John Winchester was doing the best he could, but Dean couldn't believe John would be very pleased to know Dean spawned some kids with some girl. Of course, it was something John always suspected would happen, but was unjustly thankful that his son has never knocked up some poor girl. Let alone, twice.

"My father's a complicated man…"

Alice sipped her drink. "A simple no is fine. If you think it's better to keep our kids away from that, I won't demand to know why. You know the man better than I do. I was just wondering if at least one of their grandparents would be willing to meet them."

Dean took a sip from his drink. "Have you talked to your parents at all?"

Alice scoffed and popped a fry in her mouth. "Anything they have to say to me they tell Jan to pass the message onto me. But they actually sent me a Christmas card last year." She stopped talking and noticed Dean. "Sorry for bringing your dad up. Let's not talk about our parents, okay? Sore subject for all involved, I guess."

The conversation _did_ make Dean think. How would John react to having grandchildren? The first thing he'd probably do was berate Dean for being so irresponsible. But what would he think of Alice? Of the kids? Surely John couldn't treat his grandchildren with the same gruffness he treated his own kids.

The car ride home was spent with Dean blaring his classic choice of music. When they were about ten minutes away from home, Alice reached forward and turned down the radio. "I have something to say and you're gonna disagree with me. You're gonna think I'm crazy for even thinking it."

Dean paused. "What?" He asked slowly.

"What if...what if I went on a hunt?"

Dean choked on the fry he was in the middle of swallowing. He coughed several times. He couldn't have heard her right. "What?"

"I know it's crazy but, what if you took me on a hunt?"

"No."

"Dean-"

"Absolutely not."

"Come on-"

"Alice, no. I mean it."

Feeling a bit of defiance in her, Alice crossed her arms. "Fine. Then maybe I'll ask Jan to take me on one."

Dean scoffed. "She's basically retired. And she wouldn't do that." But the more he thought about it, he wasn't so sure. Surely, Alice could convince Jan if she really tried.

"Wanna bet?" Alice sighed and backed off the belligerency. "Look Dean, I know I've only known about your world for a few days, but I really think a hunt would be beneficial. Sure, learning how to use a gun is helpful, but what good does it do me if I never actually use it under pressure in a situation that I'm actually practicing for?"

He couldn't take her. "Alice, you're right. It's a totally different thing. You're not ready for it. And hopefully you'll never be in a situation like that."

"I'm not gonna go looking for trouble...unless you leave me no other choice. Please, Dean? We can start small. With leprechauns or something like that."

Unable to help himself, he let out a snort.

Completely unaware, Alice asked what was wrong.

"Nothing." Dean tried to compose himself. He didn't want to give her any room to budge him. "It's just cute you think leprechauns are real."

Alice let herself smile for a moment. "But seriously, Dean. Shouldn't I know what it's like to actually be in a situation like that?"

"It's not safe."

"Doesn't sound like anything was ever safe. For our children, let me do this. Please, Dean."

Stopped at a red light, Dean shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds. He didn't want to think about Alice sneaking through a house in the middle of the night, a flashlight in one hand, gun in the other, hunting a monster, especially alone.

So what were his options? He could flat out tell her no and possibly drive her to do something stupid-which she would do if it was for her children-or try to enlist Jan's help. As much as Dean trusted and respected the older woman, he believed Alice was safest with him. So, taking her on a hunt was the safest, most logical choice-as much as he hated it.

He didn't want that to become his reality.

But it looked like it was going to be.

"Dean-"

"Allie."

"Dean-"

"Allie, listen."

Alice stopped. "What?"

"Okay."

Mouth dropping open, Alice quickly shut it before Dean noticed. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Don't thank me yet," Dean muttered. "We're not gonna go until I think you're ready. And if we do, we're going on the easiest salt and burn I can find."

Alice smirked. "You promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Alright, I'm holding you to that."

"Awesome," Dean muttered sarcastically.

Alice looked across at Dean and remarked with an undecipherable tone, "Looks like we're going hunting."

* * *

They had been at Alice's for almost a week when Sam began to feel like he was encroaching on their lives. It amazed him how easily Dean had slipped into the dual role of father and quasi-husband. And sure, he knew it would take time, but Sam wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to fit into this odd little family.

He and Alice had spent some time together, and he found himself resonating with her in which they were both the black sheep of their families. And eventually, they had both found their places in the world, the only difference being that Sam's little corner had been pulled right out from underneath him. In that sense, he was more jealous of Alice than he was of Dean, that she was able to leave her parents behind and create a good life for herself. Sam had almost been there but some extraneous circumstances had prevented him from apple pie happiness.

Cara seemed more eager to spend time with Sam than Dean, which was something both brothers noticed and individually tried to pretend wasn't actually happening. And although the little girl was a bit guarded when she first met Sam, like her mother, she reminded him a lot like himself. They were both quiet bookworms who seemed to have a knack for being irritated when they were treated like kids. It was evident Cara and Dean were cut from two very different cloths.

The same could be said for Sam and Noah. Literally bouncing off the walls, the boy was hardly ever anything but happy or positive, which was something that made him very easy to be around.

"How's it going?"

"Huh?" Sam looked up from his laptop where he sat at the kitchen counter. Alice stood in the entrance of the kitchen, keys in one hand, a pair of nursing scrubs on. Tendrils of frizzy hair had escaped from her bun and were framing her face.

"Just wondering how you were doing."

"Good. How was work?"

She shrugged. "It's called work for a reason, I guess." She stepped into the kitchen. "I like my job, don't get me wrong, but you know."

Sam felt himself chuckling. Did he like his job? He didn't really know. "Yeah. I get it."

"Where's everyone else?" Alice asked.

"Uhh...I think Dean took the kids somewhere. Maybe out to eat? Not really sure. Said he'd be back by four."

Alice nodded and went into the kitchen, pretending like she was looking for something to eat. She glanced at Sam's laptop and watched as his eyes quickly scanned across the screen, keys clicking at a rapid pace.

"Are you looking for a case?"

Sam stopped what he was doing and looked up. "Uhh…yeah."

Alice stepped closer to the counter. "So...how do you know when you have a case? Dean said you usually have to do research to find it out, but how do you know what's worth looking into and what's not?"

Sam shifted, bringing the laptop slightly closer to himself. "Uhh...we usually look through local news stories, keep our ear out for anything that's really odd. Occasionally another hunter will give us a tip. Our dad sends us coordinates to hunts. Kind of everything."

Alice nodded, pondering that. "You think you could show me?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

She smirked. "Afraid of your big brother?"

That caused Sam to scoff. "Please. But come on. Dont you think it's a little too soon. You literally found out about everything less than a week ago."

"But do we really have any time to lose, Sam?" She had meant it in the sense her children had already been put in a danger Alice didn't even know existed. Sam, in his head, thought how maybe if he had told Jess or heeded the visions of her death, he could've prevented it.

"If I do this, it's to prevent anything bad from happening. Right?"

She nodded vigorously. "Absolutely."

"Alright, so, I think this may be a potential case. Weird enough." Sam turned the laptop towards Alice.

She squinted her eyes at the article and tried to find anything that would indicative of something she should be looking for. Frustrated she couldn't find anything, Alice moved a piece of out hair out of her face and pulled the laptop closer. "We've got some work to do."

* * *

"Why are we here?" Cara asked. She and Noah looked up at Dean with wide eyes. He had taken them to a park and led them through some woods to a pond covered in green algae.

"Yeah, I thought we were going to Dairy Queen."

They knew what had happened there.

They remembered almost drowning.

Closing his eyes tightly, Dean turned from the pond and face his kids. He told them to come over to him and they reluctantly shuffled over. He squatted down so he was at their level. "You remember what happened here?" He asked in a soothing voice.

Both kids nodded. "They tried to drown us here," Cara remarked.

"They lied to us. And they were gonna hurt us," Noah echoed.

"Right. Something bad happened here. Something terrible."

"Dad, what are we doing here?" Noah asked. He kept glancing over Dean's shoulder towards the surface of the water. It was still, as smooth as glass.

"I took you here because I need you guys to understand something."

They stared at him blankly.

Dean continued, jaw threatening to lock as he spoke. "Something bad happened to you, but you guys can't be afraid of it anymore. It hurt you, but you're still here. Do you guys understand?"

They shook their heads. Cara had her arms crossed, with pursed lips, and Noah's brow was furrowed, fists unconsciously clenching and unclenching.

"Bad things happen in life. All the time. What happened to you was one of those bad things. But one thing you guys need to understand-Cara, Noah, pay attention-is that even worse things _will_ happen. You guys need to be prepared for that. You need to be tough and strong and you can't be afraid of the bad things that have happened to you or things that will happen to you."

"So...you're telling us bad things are gonna happen to us but we're not allowed to be afraid of those things?" Cara asked.

Dean nodded. "Right. Being scared doesn't do anything for you. I need you guys to be brave and strong. Can you do that?"

They hesitantly gave a few nods.

"But...aren't you and Mom supposed to make sure nothing bad happens to us?" Noah asked.

The question-although not totally unexpected-was something that still had the potential to knock Dean clean off his feet. Knees protesting as he stood up, Dean turned back towards the pond and scrubbed a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.

He and Alice had talked about easing Cara and Noah into the world. They were both in reluctant agreeance that they had to prepare their kids for the things that could be out there, without actually telling them. However, they had not been able to agree on a way to do that. It was tough for Alice, because she wanted to nothing more than protect her children, which was something she would do to the end, but at the same time, realized they needed to be able to protect themselves as well.

He knew this wasn't the way Alice wanted to go about things, but Dean was too busy pulling a page from John Winchester's playbook.

"Yes, of course we want to make sure nothing bad happens to you. But Noah, Mom and I aren't always gonna be around to protect you. Sometimes, things will happen that are beyond our control. That's why you need to be able to depend on yourself and protect yourself. You can't count on anyone but yourself."

It was a tough lesson, but it needed to be learned.

Noah blinked and looked around. He had innately known parents were people you were always supposed to trust and could count on all the time. But here was his father telling him not to depend on them. He glanced over at his sister who had a vacant look in her eyes. It didn't seem like she completely understood either, or wanted to believe what their father was saying.

"I know it doesn't make sense, but someday, I promise it will."

Cara scoffed quietly. There it was. That _someday. I'll tell you when you're older. Someday you'll understand._ There was _something_ dramatic that had happened in their lives, and she didn't know what it was. But she figured if Sam wasn't willing to tell her, then she sure as hell knew Dean wouldn't.

Perhaps it was something she'd have to figure out for herself.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Yeah I guess," Noah chimed in, following his sister's lead.

Dean clapped his hands together and tried to pretend like he hadn't just completely turned their realities upside down. "Truth is, at some point, someone is gonna let you down. I know I've let you guys down already."

That sobered both of them. Dean's year long absence was something they thought was scrubbed from existence, a phenomena they were allowed to talk about. But neither of them said anything now.

But _that_ was something they understood.

Secretly hoping, but realistically knowing, Cara and Noah weren't going to tell him he hadn't let them down, Dean moved on. "There's one more thing."

The two exchanged glances and braced themselves for what he was going to say next. They could only imagine.

"You're gonna face your fears."

"Dad what-"

"Jump in the pond. Both of you."

That caught a laugh from both kids. "I'm serious you two. You both have taken swim lessons and know how to swim. Cara, this isn't the first time you've jumped in this pond. Hell, Noah, you even tried to."

"It was a stupid thing to do," Cara muttered quietly. The two had moved several steps back and were glancing at each other, as if silently communicating about what the hell they thought was going on.

There shook his head. There was only one way they would do this.

Turning around quickly, Dean sprinted with impressive speed towards the pond. When he reached the surface's edge, he used all his momentum and dove below the water, propelling forward like a torpedo.

Cara and Noah only seemed to register what was going on when the surface was broken and ripples radiated from the point where their father had impacted the water.

"Dad?"

"Daddy? Where'd he go?"

"Oh God oh God what are we gonna tell Mom?"

"He's lost his mind."

While the two were panicking about what to do, Dean's head reemerged and he coughed out water.

"Are you crazy?!" Cara asked angrily. She strode towards the edge of the water and began tapping her foot like she was a mother who had caught her teenager sneaking in in the middle of the night.

"It's fine, Care. See? I'm alive."

She shook her head. "I can't believe-"

But she never got to finish her sentence because Noah came up behind her and pushed her into the water. With a gleeful and fearful scream, he cannonballed into the water and made an impressive splash.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Cara screeched after resurfacing, furiously beginning to doggy paddle to her brother.

Attempting to keep her at bay, Noah began splashing large swaths of water at her, which only served to fuel her rage. But, the angrier she got, the harder Noah started laughing.

"You're not funny Noah!" She shrieked as a splash of water went down her nose and caused her to start choking.

"You're fine, Cara," Dean insisted as she angrily huffed, paddling in place after she expelled the water from her nasal cavity.

"You're so immature."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am-"

"Enough you two."

The two stopped bickering, seemingly more out of exhaustion than actually taking heed of his words. They silently waded on either side of their father, the only sound the water displaced as they kept themselves afloat.

"There's nothing to be scared of. It's just water. There's nothing can hurt you that you can't hurt back even worse." Immediately blanching at the terrible phrasing of his words, Dean tried to correct himself. "I don't mean if you two hurt each other's feelings. I'm talking about things out in the world that are bad that _try_ hurt you. You two have the power to fight back. You don't just have to roll over and accept every terrible thing that happens."

He was met with two expressionless faces. Both kids blinked rapidly, tiny droplets springing from their eyelids as they tried to comprehend what he was saying.

"Maybe you guys are a little too young for this lesson."

"Not too young!" Cara blurted. She splashed some water at Dean's face by accident, and covered her mouth as she did. "Sorry I didn't mean to splash you."

Spitting the water out of his mouth, Dean's face changed from serious to playful in a split second as he responded by splashing her back. "Yeah, I think you did."

"Did not!" Cara yelled playfully. She sent another small wave of water at her father again.

The situation quickly escalated into a full out splash war, which Noah was quick to join. The tension Cara and Noah felt from their father's confusing life advice had evaporated, as well as Dean's worry of how they may have reacted to the advice.

The trio enjoyed themselves for several more minutes before the exhaustion of staying afloat began to take its toll. Dean paddled to the edge and crawled out first, before turning around and grabbing Cara and Noah's hands. Hoisting them up at the same time, he set them carefully on the grass.

Noah was quick to kick off his soaked gym shoes while Cara rung how her tangled hair. She sniffed it and cringed at the fishy smell. She didn't want to know how many washes it was gonna take to get the smell out.

"Mom's gonna be bad," Noah remarked as he sat down to pull off his socks. After the first incident with the pond, it had been a battle to get Alice to agree to him having swim lessons. Before that, he hadn't really had any interest in learning how to swim-he figured it was something he'd learn eventually.

Dean ruffled Noah's hair. "Don't worry about your mother. I'll deal with her. Come on. I've got some towels in the car."

The two shivering children followed their father through the forest to where the Impala was parked. Popping the trunk, he pulled out two heavy blankets and handed one to each of them.

With her teeth chattering, Cara pulled the blanket around herself. "You _so_ owe us ice cream."

"Make it a double for me," Noah agreed.

"Sure thing. Let's go get you guys your Dairy Queen," Dean responded, as they all climbed into car.

The Impala pulled out of the park, not one set of eyes looking back.

* * *

 **Here it is! I've been so excited about this chapter since I first published this story! I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'd really appreciate some reviews to know what you guys think! Things really start to pick up steam after this chapter!**

 **Stay tuned!**


	24. Shuffle off This Mortal Coil

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: Shuffle off This Mortal Coil**

* * *

In the quiet solitude of the chapel, a lone figure shifted on the wooden pew. Arms resting along the back the bench, the figure's hands were clamped together in a death grip, the skin white. A shaky breath, attempting to stabilize the individual, left an eerie echo around the oak room. The sound reverberated, and slowly faded into the floor, leaving a haunting ringing in the ears of the lone occupant of the room.

The soft ringing was driven back by a powerful gust of wind and and exploding sound of the French doors of the chapel slamming open against the walls. The figure jumped up, body tensing, hand reaching for a weapon hidden in a jacket pocket.

"Where is he? What happened Sam? My God, what happened?" The force that opened the doors with impressive strength was Alice Mercer. She stood in the entrance way of the hospital chapel. No makeup, hair a frizzy halo around her head. She wore a crumpled t-shirt, a cardigan falling down her shoulders, and jeans with a stain near the knee.

Sam scooted out of the pew he had been kneeling in and slowly approached her. "He's in the ICU." Sam took a deep breath.

Everything around Alice began to tilt, like it was being pushed sideways. "What happened?" she whispered quietly. On the phone, Sam had been frantic and simply told her Dean was in the hospital and that she should come immediately. He said things were not looking good. So she had dropped everything, called off work, and drove all the way to some town in Missouri.

"We were on a hunt. It was a Rawhead."

"A what?" There was still a part of her that couldn't believe the supernatural world was real, as she head never personally seen anything that could be classified as paranormal.

Sam blinked and took another shaky breath. He hated having to explain it to her. Watching it was traumatic enough, but having to recant it to someone near hysteria was another beast all in itself. "It's a monster that looks like a human with claws. They live underground or in basements and prey on children."

"And what happened?"

"The way to take down a Rawhead is to electrocute it."

Alice nodded stiffly, urging Sam to continue. She felt her jaw clenching, having an inkling of where this was going.

"We tracked it down to this house it was holing up in. We found the kids and then the thing showed up. I got them out while Dean went to fight the thing.

"When I-when I came back, he was unconscious and the Rawhead was dead. I found him in a puddle of water. He must have somehow fallen in the water when he was fighting the thing. They both got electrocuted.

"So I rushed him to the hospital and called you."

Striding forward, Alice grabbed Sam by the forearms, looking up at him. "No. There has to be more to it." He was refusing to make eye contact with her, looking back at the crucifix in the front of the chapel. "Sam."

Finally looking at Alice, she noticed his eyes were glistening. "The doctors said the electrocution triggered a massive heart attack,"

She gasped and pulled away.

"They said the heart attack weakened his heart."

"Sam," she said quietly.

"They said he has a month left, at the most."

* * *

She didn't faint; she remained somewhat conscious, but everything turned white for a minute and the room felt like it was spinning. Alice managed to throw herself into a pew before she could fall over from the shock. Hands gripping the pew in front of her, Alice was faintly aware of Sam calling her name, his hand on her shoulder.

Eye screwed shut, she took several deep breaths and finally opened her eyes to Jesus on the cross. It was a sight she had seen every Sunday for all of her childhood. It was a sight that usually brought her a certain level of comfort. Although her parents had forced religion down her throat, she had never completely rejected it. It was something she still tried to believe in, but it didn't bring her much comfort anymore.

Still feeling a disconnect from the information Sam had just told her, Alice leaned back and removed her grip on the pew in front of her.

"Alice, are you okay?"

"I need to see him," she muttered quietly.

"Sure. Yeah, I can take you."

Standing back, but still hovering nearby Sam watched as Alice slowly stood up. Moving like an arthritic old woman, she gripped every steady surface, a mixture of pain and numbness on her face as she navigated a world that had turned cold. Or maybe, the world had always been cold and she just hadn't noticed until now. Probably, just managed to forget at times.

As they exited the chapel, Alice looked back, catching a glimpse of the man who was the savior of his people, a man nailed to the cross as commanded by God.

* * *

Stepping into the waiting room of the empty ICU, Alice followed behind Sam as he went up to the reception desk. "We're here to see Dean Smith," Sam said.

Alice felt herself inwardly shudder. It was strange to hear him called something other than Dean Winchester. It filled her with ill-placed hope they were actually visiting a stranger, instead of the man she loved.

The receptionist pulled out a clipboard. She held it out to him but then drew it back at the last second. "Only immediate family is allowed in the ICU."

Sam nodded. He hadn't dealt with this receptionist yet. She obviously didn't know he had been there for nearly twenty-four hours already. "Yeah, I know. I'm his brother."

Nodding, she passed him the clipboard as he filled out his name and relation to the patient. He held the clipboard out to Alice who slowly approached the counter.

"And what's your relation to the patient, m'am?" The receptionist asked. It wasn't an impolite question or tone, but Alice felt herself locking up. The only thing that tied her to Dean were two children that were not there.

"His wife," Alice finally managed to choke out. She illegibly scribbled on the clipboard and handed it back to the receptionist.

Satisfied, the woman behind the desk motioned towards the door that led to the ICU. "He's in the second room on the right."

"Thank you," Alice choked. With the intent to move, she felt herself stuck in front of the desk. Hands reaching for the counter, she leaned forward on it, staring intensely at the receptionist. "Could our kids visit him?" She felt herself asking.

The receptionist attempted to gauge how old her kids would've been. Seeming to accurately recognize that Alice was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, the woman responded accordingly. "Sorry. Only immediate family over eighteen is allowed in the ICU. Your children can visit him when he's moved to a different unit."

"Right." Hands slipping off the counter, Alice nearly smacked into Sam as she turned. Taking a stumbling step back, Sam gently grabbed her upper arm to steady her.

"Where are Cara and Noah?" Sam asked, releasing her arm.

"They're with my aunt," Alice supplied shortly, brain only seeing about three seconds in front of her as she walked.

"Okay. Sure. You ready?"

Alice didn't respond as they pulled open the door, entering the ICU.

* * *

They reached Dean's room and stopped right outside the door. It was slightly ajar, but still impossible to see anything in the room. Staring at the knob, Alice willed her hand to reach for it, but the nerve connections between her brain and muscles seemed to be severed.

Sam watched her quietly, not wanting to pull her from a reverie again. Since she had burst through the chapel doors, and Sam had told her, she seemed to be sleepwalking.

The shock of finding out Dean was going to die in a few weeks had evidently not worn off.

It hadn't really for Sam, yet.

"I'll give you a few minutes."

Alice took a hesitant step forward and reached for the handle. She looked back at Sam, knowing she should say something, but not knowing what to say.

"Just brace yourself, okay?" Sam asked in response.

Alice nodded and reached for the handle. Feeling the cold metal beneath her clammy, shaking hand,s he pushed the door open.

* * *

Yeah, it sucked he was going to die, but Dean figured he would get what was coming to him sooner than later-although much sooner that he would've liked. But dying young and bloody had been a closely held truth for most of his life. He'd seen so many hunters, some younger than him, some older, all go out in a spectacular blaze of glory.

Only dying in a weird-smelling hospital where none of the nurses were even hot wasn't really the blaze of glory he'd been expecting.

Scoffing at the exterminator commercial on the TV, Dean flipped channels only to be met by that fucking fabric softener teddy bear. "Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down," he swore maliciously, even if if was the last thing he ever did, the last thing he ever hunted.

As he said that, the door swung open and slammed shut loudly.

Alice's weight had collapsed against the door as she finally caught of glimpse of him. Never in her life had she ever seen him look weak or fragile. His skin was pale, almost as white as the sheets. Contrasted sharply with that were the nearly black half moons beneath his eyes.

Alice was used to seeing unwell people every day at work. However, she worked in the rehabilitation wing, in which there was a typically positive outlook for the patients: that they would recover.

She wasn't used to seeing patients with such a damning prognosis.

But it was an entirely separate entity to see someone she loved in the situation.

Dean finally noticed who was there. Pleased to see it wasn't the doctor to remind him he was going to die, or Sam who kept saying there was no way in hell he _was_ going to die, Dean smiled. "Hey babe. Aren't you a sight for a dead man walking."

Any semblance of decorum or strength blown away, Alice threw herself to the side of his bed, knees hitting the tile ground like a sinner praying to God. She grasped his pale, clammy hand in both of hers and buried her head in the crisp sheets on the bed.

Dean felt her hands shaking in his and his weakened heart constricted. He'd thought about her and the kids a lot, but actually seeing Alice alerted to the fact he'd have to die and exist without her-wherever he went after death, if anywhere. "Come on, don't cry. I didn't mean it like that," he tried to say lightly, trying to sound confident and relaxed. He wasn't scared of dying, but he sure as hell didn't want to leave her behind.

Hearing a dying man telling her it would be okay was enough for Alice to painfully swallow her tears, mid-sob. Like she had multiple personalities, Alice straightened and abruptly turned to a calmer demeanor. Tears were still coming from her eyes, but she forced herself to be a rock.

"You shouldn't have to tell me that," she sniffled, roughly running the back of her sleeve along her nose.

Dean shrugged, at a loss of words for what to say to her. He just stared at her.

Alice took a seat on the edge of the bed, regripping his hand. ""You can't leave me yet," she whispered. Her eyes stung, the tears threatening to spill out again. "You still owe me a hunt."

"You don't want to go on a hunt. That's what got me killed." Dean looked down at their entwined hands.

"You promised me. And you're not dead yet."

"I'm sorry."

Alice recollected herself, not wanting to make him feel guilty. "Don't be sorry. You save people for a living. You're a hero."

Dean scoffed and leaned back into the pillows the not-hot nurse had set up for him. "I'm no hero. Don't ever mistake me for one."

"Dean-"

A rush of anger went through Dean. "Don't make me a martyr just because I'm gonna die!"

Feeling like she was slapped in the face, Alice retracted her hand and went to stand by the window. She pushed the curtains open so sunlight streamed into the darkened room. With crossed arms, Alice focused on the sun, trying to convince herself that was why she was crying.

Dean stared at Alice's back. "Allie…" He watched her stiffen at the nickname, but she didn't turn.

"I've made peace with the fact I'm gonna die. It sucks, but it's the natural order of things. You're gonna be fine, Allie." She would be fine. She'd been fine before, she'd be fine again. At least this time when he left her, he was morbidly comforted that she knew better than to wait around for him.

Alice felt her teeth grind at his reasoning. She would be fine? Did he forget what his leaving had done to her the first time. He didn't know the extent of the damage, but every time he left her, a small piece of her heart chipped away, leaving icy emptiness in it's place.

Dean continued. "You're strong. And you're a great mother. You're gonna make it through this. And one day, maybe you'll wake up and not even think about me." As much as he hated everything he was saying, he believed it would help her.

Hand coming up to cover her quivering chin, Alice turned so she could see Dean from the side. "Don't. Don't do that. Don't tell me how I should feel, cause you know you're wrong. How would you feel if I was the one in that bed?"

He'd do everything he could to save her. "I'd hate it."

"Now you know what it's like."

They were silent for a moment and Dean mentally cursed when the fabric softener commercial came on again. "You know, for a nurse, you have a horrible bedside manner."

Another beat of silence followed, and it took even longer for Alice to realize what he was saying. For a moment, she thought he was serious until she recognized his thinly veiled attempt to hide his signature shit-eating grin.

"Oh, I forgot you think you're funny," Alice responded with a watery laugh.

"You can't even humor me. Not even when I'm on my death bed."

Shaking her head fondly at how carefree he could be, she returned to his side, pulling up a chair shoved in the corner. "I think Cara and Noah should come visit you."

Dean looked out the window, noting the bright day. "They're not here, are they?"

She nodded. "They're with Jan. I dropped everything as soon as Sam called me."

"You really think it's a good idea?"

Alice frowned, offended for a moment. "Leaving them with Jan or dropping everything to come see you?"

"No. Bringing the kids to see me."

"Don't you want to see them?"

"Of course I do. But do you really want them to see me like this?"

"They should."

But Dean wasn't so sure.

He loved his kids and wanted to see them one last time, but didn't want them scarred for life.

 _God._

He was such a hypocrite. Just a few months ago after telling Alice, he had vaguely told Cara and Noah the world was a terrible, cold place. It was a place where their parents let them down, and bad things happened, and they weren't allowed to be afraid.

"Fine. Bring 'em," he muttered gruffly.

"Okay. I'll call Jan to drive up."

Only a few moments later, it appeared Dean had fallen asleep. Chest clenching at how fragile he looked, Alice placed a light kiss on his lips before drawing the curtains shut. She quietly shut the door behind him, leaving him to sleep.

* * *

After a difficult conversation with Dean's doctor, and a call to Jan to bring the kids, Alice found herself kneeling on the hard floor of the chapel. In the front of the small sanctuary, Alice's arms were draped over the altar as she cried into the white cloth with a golden cross woven into it.

She knew it was frowned upon and highly sacrilegious to be so frivolous and disrespectful with an altar-it was a direct insult to God-but she hoped it would make her feel closer, give her a tiny speck of faith.

There was no concept of time has she clung to the symbol of the faith her childhood was built on. As Alice was contemplating that foundation, a hand gently cupped her shoulder.

Sitting up rigidly, Alice turned and acknowledged she was no longer alone. Behind her was an elderly woman wearing a khaki skirt, pink cardigan, pantyhose, and kitten heels. A white veil was loosely draped over her gray permed hair. Alice noticed a golden crucifix hidden partially under the veil.

Letting go of the cloth on the altar, Alice stood up and smoothed out the fabric. She wiped her eyes and guiltily turned towards the woman. "Sorry, m'am. If you want privacy to pray, I'll leave."

Smiling kindly, the woman indicated Alice to follow her into the first row of the pews.

A bit timidly, Alice slid in first and stared straight ahead as the woman joined her and held out a veiny hand for the younger woman to shake. "Sister Annelisa."

Surprised by the fact the woman was a nun, Alice felt even more shameful. "Oh I can't believe you caught me on the altar. I-"

"What's your name?" Sister Annelisa asked.

"Alice." She shut her mouth after that.

Sister Annelisa nodded and looked up at the altar. "What's troubling you?"

Knowing better than to lie to a woman of God-she couldn't even if she wanted to-Alice swallowed her pride and felt herself telling the woman. "The man I love is dying." She was careful with the wording.

The nun nodded solemnly, as if mulling over what to say next. "I'm sorry. Your husband must be so young. It must be difficult."

Alice felt herself stiffen. _She doesn't know you're not married. She doesn't need to know. Is it a sin if the nun doesn't know you're lying?_ "He's not my husband!" Alice blurted, feeling like the woman knew she was lying. "I don't really know what we are. We don't live together but we've loved each other for over a decade. Put me down for teen mom, two kids out of wedlock. Who knows how many sins that is-"

"Have you gone to confession?"

Alice froze. "What?"

"Have you gone to confession?"

Alice shook her head. "In my heart, I'm sorry. I have been. But no. I haven't gone." Had it really been since before she left Broken Bow that she'd gone to confession?

"You need to go. Confess your sins to you can let go of them. God wants to forgive you, you need to let Him." Sister Annelisa stared at Alice's profile. "May I ask when was the last time you went to confession?"The nun asked, as if reading her mind.

"Over a decade."

"Why do you think it's been so long?"

Alice shrugged. "Because I can't feel Him anymore."

"Him? As in God?"

Alice nodded. "When I was younger, I was so sure He was there, but now, I don't know."

Sister Annelisa pondered that. "It's easy to believe when we're innocent. But it seems the older we get, the more cynical we become, our use for God is cast aside. He serves no purpose in a life where bad things happen to us. Because how can an almighty being that allegedly loves us more than anything stand back and watch as terrible things happen?"

It was so strange for a nun to admit a shakiness in faith. Alice's own mother would've chasisted her if Alice were to tell her her faith was shaking. Because apparently Sherry Mercer had never wavered in her faith and the idea someone else could was insulting.

"It's not that I don't believe in Him. It's just...has He always been so cold? I can accept that bad things happen to good people if there's no order to life, but I don't feel His love. I'm not asking for a miracle. Just a sign…"

"He gives us signs all the time. The beauty of life alone is a sign."

It seemed the two had finally hit a wall. "Not the life I've seen," Alice whispered quietly. Not what she was seeing now.

"Can I tell you a story?" The nun asked.

Reluctantly, Alice nodded, clenched her hands together, as one would in prayer.

Sister Annelisa's veiny hand clutched the golden crucifix she wore. "I'm of the Romani people," she said.

"A gypsy?" Alice found herself asking.

"Yes. That's right. I don't know exactly where I was born. I suspect Croatia or Slovenia, maybe even Hungary. My family roamed Europe until I was about twelve or thirteen. We were unfortunate enough to stumble into Poland in the year 1939."

Alice immediately knew the significance of the date. She knew where this tale was headed.

"As you can probably guess, that's the year Hitler invaded Poland. Very quickly my little community, family, was rounded up and thrown into a ghetto. But not me. There was a kind Italian couple visiting their family at an unfortunate time. They agreed to pretend I was their daughter. They took me to Italy and eventually I found my way to America.

"I never saw the horrors my family undoubtedly saw. But once I came to America, I knew my family was dead. I don't know what kind of hells they went through, but I couldn't believe God would allow so many people to be killed. _My_ people.

"I struggled a long time, Alice, but eventually, I devoted myself to God."

"But _why?_ Why do you give your entire life to someone who created so much evil in the world?"

"It seems you're mistaken. God is not the one that created evil. That is sin."

"No. I mean evil beyond people. _Monsters."_ Alice gasped quietly when she realized what she'd said.

"Yes. That's the devil at work."

"Why won't God save us from that?" Alice asked quietly. She felt like a small child, huddled under the blanket.

"He already has. If I may be frank, it seems that you've lost sight of what the Lord truly is. Perhaps you should take some time and reflect. It think it will bring you peace."

"But it won't bring the man I love peace."

Sister Annelisa sighed. "The Lord will show mercy."

 _What a line,_ Alice sneered inside her head. Shaking the tears from her lashes, she looked sideways. Perhaps there was a hardened, toughened spirit in that women that had been touched by the Holy Spirit. It was a force Alice wondered if she had actually ever felt, or if she had just fooled herself into thinking she had.

Deciding for the moment she was done worrying about a spirit in the sky, she decided she could make the woman in front of her feel like she'd accomplished something.

"You're right, Sister. I need to reflect. I'm not thinking very clearly right now. Perhaps I just need some time."

A look of relief flooded over the nun's face. She patted Alice's hand and shuffled out of the pew. "Dear, if you need anything, I'll be around. God bless."

Alice tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "You too."

Sister Annelisa slipped out the door of the chapel.

When the only sound left was the soft echo from the closing door, Alice kneeled, a motion she had done so many times, it was embedded into her muscles. She rest her forehead on rested hands, looking much like any normal church goer.

However, as a faithful-or even hopeful-person would have prayed, her mind was blank.

* * *

Sam angrily slammed his phone shut. With clenched teeth, he silently cursed their father. He wasn't surprised by John's radio silence, but it still made him angry, nonetheless.

Thinking about simpler times at Stanford and with Jess, Sam was sharply pulled out of his reverie by a knock at the door.

Springing up quickly, he reached for a nearby gun and slowly moved towards the door. Cautiously opening the door, Sam was shocked to see Dean slumped against the outside of the motel room, wearing a black hoodie, and as white as a ghost.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked. He pulled Dean into the room before his brother could fall over.

"I checked myself out," Dean said simply, going to sit down in a chair.

"What, are you crazy?"

Dean scoffed. "I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot."

Sam scoffed. "Where the hell is Alice?"

Looking slightly guilty, Dean gave a sheepish smile. "Probably at the hospital."

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. "Does she know you're here?"

"Probably not."

Just then, Sam's phone started buzzing. As if in tune to their conversation, Sam answered Alice's call and quickly explained to the frantic woman Dean was safe at the motel room. He gave her the address. She tearfully and angrily said she'd be there in a few minutes.

"Nice, Dean. You could've at least told her."

Dean coolly ignored him.

"You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap. I can see right through it. Alice can too. I'm guessing that's why you ditched her at the hospital."

"Good for you, Miss Cleo. By the way, you get to meet Alice's crazy aunt."

Sam frowned. "Who?"

"Jan? Janet Sutton? 'Seven years a widow?'"

Sam looked at his brother as if he were insane. "Her aunt's coming?"

"Yep. Bringing Cara and Noah."

Sam scrunched his nose. "You think that's a good idea?"

"Sue me if I wanna see my kids before I get put in the ground."

"Dean, you're not gonna die. We still have options."

"Sam, I'm not having this discussion again-"

"I've been scouring the Internet for days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal."

"For what?"

Suddenly, there was a continuous, angry pounding at the door. Immediately knowing it was Alice, Sam slid the door open for her and quickly got out of the blast zone.

"You _asshole,"_ Alice hissed. Her face was red, hair wild, and dried trails of tears were etched onto her cheeks. Her hands were gnarled into fists-it was a wonder she was able to remove her hands from the steering wheel. Wanting to spew more venom at Dean, she took in his weakened appearance once again and slumped against the wall, tears threatening again. " _God_ I've cried enough today," she lamented, hand placed to her forehead.

"Alice, you okay?" Sam asked quietly. Dean stared at her in silence.

Waving him off, she went and sat on one of the beds. "I can't believe myself," she muttered. "First I lie to a nun and then I almost yell at someone who's going to die-"

"You lied to a nun?" Dean suddenly asked, amused.

Snapping her head up, Alice glared at him. Feeling like a chastised little kid, he looked down, hiding the smile on his face.

"For the record, your children are gonna be here in an hour. Time really flies when you're escaping from hospitals."

"I didn't escape. I signed myself out. I'm a grown ass man. I can do what I want."

Alice glared at him again, eyes red.

Attempting to appease her, Dean muttered he was sorry once again. Sam couldn't help but lightly chuckle at the two. They argued like a couple married for more than fifty years. The smile slid off Sam's face when he realized Dean wasn't even supposed to make it by the end of the month.

"I thought you died," Alice muttuered. "I went back to your room and you were gone, bed made, room spotless like there was ever there."

Sam glared at his brother accusatorily.

"Sorry babe. But honestly, I don't know how the hell you can work in a place like that." Dean paused for a moment. "But I guess your hospital at least has hot nurses," he said with a smirk.

She couldn't stop herself from blushing. When he talked to her like that, she would always feel like a shy teenage girl who was hearing those words for the first time from a mysterious boy with a bad reputation. "Yeah right," she said lightly, turning away so he wouldn't see her reaction.

The tension in the room diffused as much as it could. There wasn't much conversation as the three passively watched television. Usually, silence didn't bother Sam, but every few seconds he would glance over at his father's journal, left open on the table. Standing up, he made a show of yawning, quickly tucking the journal in his jacket pocket. "I'm starved. You guys want some food?"

"No thank you, Sam. I think we're okay," Alice said.

"Don't eat too much. We'll go out to eat with the kids and Jan when you get back, yeah?" Dean asked. "I'd die for a burger about now."

Alice's jaw ticked at his phrasing. "You sure you're okay to go out? We can order food-"

"Nah, let's get out of this jail cell."

"Right, well I'll be back in a little bit," Sam said, closing the door behind him. He pulled out the leather bound journal.

He had work to do

* * *

Cara and Noah had been quiet. Besides arguing about who got to sit shotgun the last leg of the trip, they were busy looking out the window. A Patsy Cline song was softly coming from the speakers as Jan pulled up to the Valley View Motel. What appeared to be a pay-by-the-hour joint, Jan put the car in park and pulled the keys from the ignition. She spotted her niece sitting on a curb stop in front of one of the motel room doors.

"Why don't you kids wait here?" Jan asked softly as she exited the car.

She slowly approached Alice and took a seat on the pavement beside her. She rubbed the younger woman's back. "You alright?"

Alice shrugged. "I really don't wanna cry anymore."

"Baby, I still cry sometimes," Jan offered, referring to her late husband. He'd been gone for nearly seventeen years, and she still missed him everyday.

Alice quickly glanced at her aunt in shock. Jan cried? It never occurred to Alice that the woman was anything but-maybe not carefree- light hearted. It was rare for Jan to even be slightly irritated, but even when she was, there was always a playful aspect to the woman.

"What am I gonna do?" Alice asked, staring at the palms of her hands.

Jan flicked some hair over her shoulder. "You're gonna do what you gotta do."

Looking up, Alice noticed Cara and Noah impatiently peering through the front windshield. Cara had climbed from the back seat and was now sitting in the driver's seat, Noah beside her in the passenger seat. She felt herself smiling, but then felt her heart clench when she remembered she had to tell the kids their father was dying.

"I'll leave you to it. Gonna pop in there real quick to say hi to him." Jan squeezed Alice's shoulder, slowly opening the motel room door.

* * *

Dean decided American daytime television wasn't as bad as it seemed. He was currently watching an old rerun of _Jeopardy!_

"Who is Sergio Leone!" He yelled enthusiastically in a hoarse voice.

"Known for his spaghetti westerns?"

"Jan? Janet Sutton?"

The older woman smirked as she shut the door. She moved to stand over his bed and crossed her arms. "Dying has not been kind to you, son. You look terrible."

Dean felt himself laugh. "You look great, Jan. Not a day over fifty."

"It's my radiating, sunny personality." Jan let out a sigh as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "How you feeling, Winchester?"

"Tired," he replied honestly.

She nodded her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Dean. Truly, I am."

He shrugged. "But not unexpected. You know that better than most."

Jan nodded. She'd had more than a few close calls over the years, but overall, she'd been incredibly lucky, at least in terms of surviving more than three decades of hunting. "You're a good man. And a good father. I'm so glad you came looking for Alice." She squeezed his shoulder. "I think Al is gonna bring the kids in in a minute, so I'll give you four some time."

"Hey Jan?" Dean called, as Jan was about to depart.

She turned, hand on the doorknob.

"Will you do me a favor and look out for them?"

She nodded. "Of course."

* * *

After being beckoned from the car, Cara and Noah slowly approached their mother. She stood up and pulled both of them into a tight hug, their arms constricting around her torso as they held on for dear life.

"What happened?" Cara demanded.

"Yeah, Aunt Jan wouldn't tell us anything. And she was just there picking us up from school…" Noah added.

"She said something was wrong with Dad?" Cara continued.

Signalling them to stop and take a breath, Alice crouched down so she was at their level. "I need you two to listen to me because I have something important to tell you."

"Mom what's going on?" Noah asked quietly.

Trying to plaster a reassuring smile on her face, Alice grabbed each of their hands. She opened her mouth, but her mouth froze.

"Mom, what?" Cara growled, starting to get anxious.

"Dad got hurt. Really bad."

Noah felt himself staring past his mother, trying to process what she said.

"What happened?" Cara asked, quieter.

"He had a heart attack." Alice's voice caught in her throat. "The doctor's said he only has a month to live."

There was the sound of silence like they'd been slapped in the face.

"He's gonna die in a _month?_ " Cara managed incredulously.

Alice nodded.

"But why us? Why does everything happen to us?" Cara asked, demanding an answer her mother didn't have.

 _You have no idea, baby,_ Alice thought as she clutched Cara's hand tighter.

"I don't know. Sometimes bad things happen. I'm sorry I don't have the answers."

Cara remembered the words her father had told her. That bad things would always happen, people would let her down, and there was nothing she could do about it.

And to seal all that information, she was plunged into a pond that purified her of any innocence she'd had.

After carefully watching how her mother was trying hard not to cry, Cara figured she could at least do the same. For everyone's sake.

"Okay."

Meanwhile, Noah was having a hard time seeing straight. Ever since their Aunt Jan had been there to pick them up from the bus stop, he felt like he was in a dream, like there was a part of him that didn't believe his reality was actually _real._ He knew if he opened his mouth to say something, the dream would either shatter and he would wake up from the nightmare, or nothing would change and he would still be standing in his own personal hell. If he could keep himself in a state of disbelief, he couldn't be hurt. So that's what he would do.

"So Dad's in the room. He's really pale and looks sick. Be gentle when you hug him because he's pretty weak. Okay?"

Cara swallowed and could feel herself turning green. Noah nodded robotically, mouth clamped shut.

Jan emerged from the room as Alice stood up. Nodding at her niece, Jan jingled her keys at Cara and Noah, giving them an encouraging smile. She hopped in her car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Once her car had disappeared from sight, the trio apprehensively stared at the motel room door. Alice glanced back at her children and wished with everything she had they didn't have to see their father like this. She knew she had been the one to insist they see him. She wanted them to get a chance to see goodbye. _I hate this I hate this I hate this. They shouldn't have to do this,_ Alice thought. In a last ditch attempt, she glanced up at the sky. _God,_ please. _For once give me strength. Give me a_ whisper _you're there._

Cara furiously massaged her right palm with her left thumb. Realizing what she was doing, she dropped her hands to her sides and tried to make herself appear less nervous. She tried to take a steadying breath but found it only make her chest feel heavier. Like there was no oxygen left in the world, she felt like she was drowning for a moment. _You don't get to cry. Don't you cry. Don't be a baby. They've got enough to worry about without you crying,_ Cara internally chastised herself.

Noah stared at his mother and sister and felt himself lurching forward as he followed them towards the door. When that door opened, he suspected he would wake up. After all, this had to be a dream. Men in their twenties didn't just drop dead from a heart attack, especially his father. Dean Winchester was invincible. _You should probably wake up; you've been asleep for a long time. Wake up, it's just a bad dream,_ Noah convinced himself as the motel door swung open.

* * *

Blinking rapidly, Noah looked around in confusion. He wasn't in bed or even dozing off in class. He was in a motel room with stained wallpaper and peeling furniture. In one of the collapsed beds was his father, looking sickly and weak and _so young._

Noah felt his stomach doing flip flops as he watched Dean struggle to sit up straighter, and Alice rush over to help him.

The brother and sister stood woodenly in the doorway of the room, watching their father be propped against some pillows. Neither had ever seen him as anything but strong. Neither of them knew how to react.

When he was properly sat up against the headboard, Dean hesitantly eyed his children. "Hey guys," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice light.

Bad things certainly did happen. And this was the bad thing their father had been referring to.

"Hi Dad," Cara responded, voice nearly breaking. She watched as he raised his arms. They shook.

Lip quivering, Cara moved forward first. Upon reaching her father, she wrapped her arms around his torso and placed her cheek on his chest, feeling his heartbeat in her ear. It sounded strong, but that was a lie. His arms tightened around her, and Cara finally felt a tear escape from her burning eyes.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she admitted in a quiet voice.

"For what?" Dean murmured, arms tightening across her back.

"For being so mean whenever you came over." All the times she'd been cold or awful to him flashed through her mind. She had wanted to guard her own heart, but had ended up actually wounding both of theirs in the process. She didn't take advantage of the precious time she'd had with him, and now it was too late. "I do miss you when you're gone, even though I don't act like it."

Instantly wishing he'd spent more time with them, Dean cradled the back of her head with one hand. "You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart."

The two stayed there for several minutes, before Cara eventually pulled away. Wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, she went to stand next to her red eyed mother, who had managed to ward off her tears for now. Alice wrapped an arm around her daughter.

"No."

At the sound of his nickname, the young boy was pulled out of his internal crisis. _I'm going to respond. And as soon as I talk, I'll know this isn't a dream._

"Yeah, Dad?" Noah hesitantly echoed as the illusion that everything was fine shattered around him.

"You alright?"

Noah marveled his father would ask that, even though Dean was the one laying in bed, hardly able to move because he was so weak.

"Yeah. I just-"

"Come here," Dean ordered lightly.

Forcing himself to move forward, Noah stepped over the invisible shards of his protective fantasy and and awkwardly stood next to the bed.

Dean held out his arms like he had done with Cara. "It's okay. You're not gonna break me."

Stiffly, Noah moved forward and gave Dean a hesitant hug.

The longer Noah stood there, the more he felt himself shaking. He couldn't control it, and after a few seconds, he was full out sobbing. He locked his arms around his father's neck and cried unabashedly. "This isn't real. This can't be real," Noah muttered to himself over and over again, and he continually realized he wasn't going to wake up from a bad dream.

He was living the nightmare.

The nightmare had become his life.

Dean held his son while he cried, and for the first time since finding out he was going to die, the man actually felt tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He could handle some tears, but to watch his son break down completely made Dean wish he didn't have to leave. Looking up over the top of his son's head, Dean watched as Alice approached and wrapped her arms around the two.

From the corner of the room, Cara watched her family for a moment before joining the huddle. Dean and Alice both removed their arms to envelope their daughters. From either side, they clung to their children.

The quartet stayed there, clinging to one another, afraid to let go. For once they let go, that would mark the end of an era.

It would mark the beginning of the end.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! I hope to have the second part of this chapter up soon!**


	25. Shoulder the World

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five: Shoulder the World**

* * *

Noah was finally having a nightmare. He knew he was dreaming, but he also knew this nightmare would soon become a reality.

For in the dream, he was dressed in a black suit-he didn't even own one-and wore white gloves. He held onto one of the silver handles of a shiny wood casket. It was a dark mahogany, and Noah could see a distorted reflection of himself on the surface. Looking away from his eerie double, Noah removed his hands from the handle and heaved the closed lid up. The coffin was suddenly on a stand so it didn't need to be held by him and the other faceless pallbearers anymore. The lid swung back into an upright position. And propped up unnaturally in the casket, with white skin, was his father. Dean's face appeared rubbery and his hands were strangely arranged across his chest. His head was bent at a strange angle, resting against a lacy white pillow. He also wore a black suit.

"Dad?" Noah asked. His voice sounded far away, like he hadn't been the one to say it.

But as Noah said that, the lid of the casket suddenly pounded shut and the ground disappeared beneath his feet. Landing six feet under the ground, Noah attempted to claw his way out of a freshly dug grave.

As he looked up and saw the bright blue sky, a shovelful of dirt flung itself onto his face. Coughing and sputtering, Noah watched Cara's head poke over the side. She squinted as if she couldn't see all the way down. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and eventually, it seemed like she didn't think there was anything to see at the bottom of the grave.

"Cara!" Noah called, but it sounded like a faint echo.

Her head disappeared and another shovel of dirt landed at his feet. This time, Alice's head poked out. It was obvious she was distraught, crying and shaking. "My poor baby," she wailed.

"Mom! I'm alive! Help me! Mom?" Just like Cara, Alice vanished from sight.

Another shovel of dirt, and this time, his father was there. Alive.

"Dad, why can't you see me? I'm right here in front of you!"

Just as with the others, Dean didn't hear him.

The shovels of dirt kept coming and it seemed like everyone Noah had ever seen was there, seeing right through him, burying him alive. There was Uncle Sam, Aunt Jan, Uncle Bobby, and countless others.

Eventually, the dirt was packed around him, all the way up to his chin. He could barely move his head, and soon, he wouldn't be able to breathe.

" _It's not even that deep,"_

Upon hearing that, Noah's marrow chilled and he immediately began to panic. Thrashing, he tried to free himself from the dirt, but it was as solid as concrete.

He was stuck, left to watch in horror as Tyler and Jason Hanratty peered over the side. "You know, I think being buried alive is worse than drowning."

"Don't you dare!" Noah screamed, convinced someone else's voice was speaking for him. He'd never heard himself sound that frantic or deranged. It couldn't possibly be him.

" _We're just playing a game!"_

"No! You were gonna hurt us!" Noah cried back.

One of the boys peered down. He had black eyes. "We didn't get to finish our game last time."

And as Noah opened his mouth to scream, a final layer of dirt came down upon him, completely burying him.

* * *

Noah shot up with a loud gasp. Staring around the darkness, his eyes slowly adjusted, and he realized he was in a motel room, on a pull out couch bed. Hand clutching at his chest, he had to remind himself out to breathe for a few moments before it leveled out.

Looking out across the room, Noah saw his parents asleep in one bed, Cara sprawled out on the other.

Laying back down, Noah was about to go back to sleep when he remembered why they were in a motel. His dad was dying.

Heart rate shooting up again, Noah sat up quickly and grabbed his shoes and jacket that were in a pile near the couch.

 _Dad's dying._

 _Dad's gonna die._

 _Dad's gonna be dead in a month._

Very carefully, Noah tiptoed across the room, to the door. He unlocked it and winced when it clicked loudly.

Not even bothering to look back to see if anyone had woken up, Noah shut the door behind him and crossed his arms to fend off the cold.

But at least he could breathe.

Noah went and leaned against the hood of the Impala, parked between their and Sam's room. Aunt Jan had left for Chicago the night before, after Dean insisted she didn't need to worry about him.

 _Dad's gonna die._

 _Dad's gonna die._

 _Dad's gonna die._

"Stop it," Noah whispered to himself. He remembered years ago when had pushed Cara into the coffee table years ago. Now, he can't even recall why he had done it. But Mom had been so mad at him and Dad had told Noah he needed to protect those he cared about.

That's what being a man was: taking care of those who couldn't take care of themselves, and protecting those he loved.

So what kind of man would be be, if he couldn't comfort his mother and sister, let alone himself without falling apart like a girl? Why couldn't he be strong for his dad, show Dean that Noah would be able to be the man of the house after he was gone?

Two steady streams of tears began to fall down Noah's cheeks. Angered at himself for crying so much, Noah growled and kicked his feet against the bumper of the Impala. "Why can't you just stop crying?" he hissed to himself, which only caused the tears to turn from sad to frustrated.

* * *

Having lost track of how many times he'd flipped through his father's journal, Sam had to push it away when his eyes began to hurt, staring at the script. He rubbed his eyes and groaned.

The journal was written in a strange half-cursive half printed font. The letters left deep and angry indents in the page, indicating John Winchester always pressed too hard with the pen when he wrote. Without even reading the words, the very appearance of the letters themselves revealed John Winchester's hunger for revenge.

Once again irritated with his father for ignoring his calls, Sam slammed the cover of the leather-bound journal shut, and gripped it angrily between his two hands. Feeling like he wanted to tear it apart, Sam took several deep breaths before smashing it back down onto the table.

He couldn't look at those pages filled with angry scribbles anymore.

But he had to keep looking.

 _Calm the fuck down,_ Sam hissed internally.

Then he paused and thought for a moment.

He was a mess.

Knowing he should get some sleep, and knowing he was tired, but also knowing he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, Sam stood and stretched out his cramped back. He'd been sitting for hours, attempting to find a Hail Mary so he could save his brother. Not only for his own sake, but for Alice and the kids.

Moving to the window, Sam pulled back the curtain, to see if the sun was anywhere near rising.

When he peered outside, he noticed a figure, hunched over, a top the Impala.

Feeling himself stiffen, Sam grabbed his pistol and shoved it into the waistband of his pants. He turned off the light in his room before pulling open the door, so the figure wouldn't see him coming as easily.

Stealthily, Sam covered the small distance from his door to the car.

But he stopped just short of parking lot, where an awning hanging over the doors, met the blacktop.

The figure on top of the Impala was much smaller up close. It was curled upon itself, muttering angrily and sniffling.

And Sam realized it wasn't a monster, or even a vagrant.

"Noah?" Sam's hand immediately fell away from the handle of the gun.

Blinking in surprise at the sound of someone else's voice, Noah glanced up to find his uncle standing in front of him.

"Buddy, what are you doing out here?" Sam asked. He glanced around the dark parking lot. It wasn't a particularly great place for a ten year old to be hanging out in the middle of the night, especially alone.

Noah sighed, his entire body shuddering. "It's stupid."

"What?"

Noah drew his knees up to his chest and shoved his face against them so anything he said was muffled. "I had a bad dream."

Quietly, Sam came and sat beside Noah. "It's not stupid. I have bad dreams sometimes, too."

Surprised, Noah glanced up at his uncle. "Oh. What do you dream about?"

"Some are about Jess."

"Oh."

Sam nodded and gently asked, "Do you want to tell me what it was about? You don't have to if you don't want to."

Noah was shaking his head. "No it's okay. I'll tell you."

He mentally prepared himself.

"I had a dream we were burying my dad. But suddenly, _I_ was the one in the ground. In a _grave._ One at a time, people I knew would poke their head down and then throw a shovelful of dirt on me. But they couldn't hear me scream. They didn't even see me. It was like I wasn't even there.

"And eventually...those two that tried to drown me and Cara showed up."

Sam felt his breath catch. He had only ever heard of the Hanratty brothers, and he knew if he ever crossed their paths, he would've killed them, even though they were kids.

They had these... _black_ eyes. And they buried me."

"What?"

"Huh?" Noah looked up, confused. His eyes felt itchy.

"What did you say?"

"They buried me?"

"No. Their eyes turned black?"

"Yeah?" Noah said, not sure why his uncle was so hung up on that one detail. Little did he know those brothers _had_ been possessed by that black eyed bitch Sonja, as she'd nearly reached Cara and Noah, with nothing but evil intentions.

Sam shook his head. Why was Noah having dreams about demons when he didn't even know what they were? "Nothing."

"And then I came out here cause I needed some air," Noah said, moving past the strange glitch in the conversation. Still, Sam's mind hung on that one piece of information.

"You really shouldn't be out here alone, you know," Sam chastised gently.

Noah shrugged. "I know." He had other things he actually had to worry about, then. "I wish I would stop crying."

Sam sighed and put his arm around Noah. "It's alright to cry."

"I just wanna be strong for them."

As if he were a little boy again, Sam caught a glimpse at a young Dean, a child who had the weight of the world on his shoulders. However, the boy in front of him was not Dean, but Noah.

For Dean, the necessity of him to look out for his family was drilled into him by John Winchester.

For Noah, it seemed to be innate.

"It's not your job to take care of everyone," Sam said softly. It was something Dean had never been told, and maybe it was something his son needed to hear.

"But how can I not? It's my _family."_

Again, Sam was blown away by Noah's fierce loyalty at such a young age. No doubt, Dean was proud of him.

"Noah, I _promise_ I'll do everything I can to make sure your dad doesn't die."

"What can _you_ do?" There was a jaded edge in the boy's voice, and Sam felt a barb in his heart.

Sam wanted to bite back that he was doing everything he could, but how could he explain it to Noah without spilling the beans that monsters were real? "Just...have some faith."

Tiredly, Noah nodded, not saying anything. Sam couldn't tell if Noah really believed him or not, or if the boy was just humoring him.

"You should probably head back to bed before your parents wake up."

"Please. Just a few for minutes?"

"Fine. Just a few minutes."

They sat there in silence for longer than a few minutes. Sam's head spun as he thought about what Noah had seen in his dream. Black eyes.

Surely, it was just a coincidence, but how could it be?

After sitting out there for a little longer, Sam nudged Noah, but the boy's head lobbed to the side, meeting Sam's upper arm. Realizing Noah was sleeping, Sam sighed.

Not wanting to wake his nephew up, Sam carefully lifted the boy in his arms and started walking towards the motel room. As he reached the door, it swung open and a sickly looking Dean stepped out past the doorframe.

"He's fine," Sam explained quickly. "He just fell asleep-"

Dean just smirked. "I know. I was watching through the window the entire time."

Sam frowned. "Then why-"

"I figured he could use some space. Don't worry, I had my eye on him. But thanks, for going out there. I got him," Dean insisted, when Sam tried to carry Noah into the room.

Reluctantly, Sam handed Noah to Dean and watched the father stagger and struggle to carefully place his son on the couch, without waking him up.

After he'd covered Noah in a blanket, Dean limped back over to the open door and appraised his brother. "Why does it look like you haven't gotten any sleep?"

"I have. I-"

"Whatever dude." Dean didn't feel like arguing. There was no point when he didn't have much time left.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Sam asked.

Sensing the urgency in Sam's voice, Dean looked back into the dark motel room and shut it behind him. He leaned against the wall of the building, trying not to make it obvious it was a struggle for him to stand. Carrying Noah the four feet to his bed had really sapped Dean of his energy.

What kind of father did that make him that he couldn't even carry his child to their bed?

Banishing the self-flagellating thoughts, Dean crossed his arms. "What's up?"

"Noah had a bad dream."

Dean raised his eyebrows and tried to remain nonchalant. "A ten year old having a bad dream? Call the cops."

"Shut up for a second and let me talk. In his dream, he said he was being buried alive and he saw those brothers that almost drowned him and Cara. You know? The ones Sonja and her asshole pal possessed?"

"Yeah I _know,"_ Dean snapped. Any mention of those little sociopaths made him see red.

"In his dream, Noah said they had black eyes."

Dean frowned and looked up. "What did you say?"

"Those brothers had black eyes in his dream."

Dean didn't say anything.

"He...doesn't know about demons, does he?"

"No!" Dean snapped, insulted. "And he's not _ever_ gonna know!"

"Dean-"

"It's just a coincidence, Sam."

Sam knew Dean was trying to deny anything could be going on. Dean refused to believe Sam's dreams came true. And surely, Dean wouldn't want to believe Noah's dreams were similar to Sam's.

"How could he dream about something like that? _That's_ not a coincidence. Dean...what if they're like mine?" Sam was terrified to even suggest it, but Dean shut him down.

"No. They're not like yours. And besides, you just have bad dreams. Everyone has bad dreams." Dean paused. "Look, Sam. I know you haven't probably slept in days. You look worse than me. Get some shut eye, alright?"

Sensing the conversation was coming to a close, Sam deflated. "Sure, Dean."

"Oh, and one more thing?"

"What?"

"Don't tell Alice. She's got enough to worry about."

With that, Dean said goodnight and shut the door to his motel room.

Slowly making his way back to his own room, Sam felt his mind whirring overtime.

He needed to find a way to save Dean.

And fast.

* * *

"Where are we going again?"

Alice sighed and blinked against the bright, rising sun. "Iowa. Your Uncle Sam said he found someone that could help Dad." Dean was passed out in the passenger seat and Cara was in the back, leaning forward between the seats.

"How is he gonna help Dad?"

"Cara, put your seatbelt on," Alice demanded, glancing back in the rearview mirror.

Huffing, the young girl slid back to her seat and buckled herself in.

In front of them was Sam driving the Impala, leading the way. After much begging, Noah had finally convinced Alice to let him ride in the Impala with Sam, citing that his uncle needed company. Alice was half expecting Cara to try and ride in the Impala as well, but she seemed to want to stay close to her father, a sort of new behavior for her. Usually, Cara was aloof and standoffish around her father. Perhaps knowing he was dying made her regret being so terrible to him for so many years.

"How can they help Dad?"

"I don't know baby. But have some faith." Alice felt dirty for telling her daughter that when she didn't even believe it herself. When Sam had told them he head a lead, he was so forceful, and hopeful that Alice and Dean didn't even get the chance to question him. Dean decided to let Sam have his lead that would likely go nowhere, while Alice was afraid to let go of the last hangnail of hope they had.

Cara nodded and stared at the back of her father's head, but remained silent. Cara knew better than to hope everything was okay, but she couldn't imagine living in a world where her father wasn't there. Not one where he existed but didn't see them, but one where he was dead.

So, against her most rational thoughts, Cara allowed herself to hope.

* * *

Noah leaned forward in his seat as Sam drove the Impala up to what looked like a circus tent. Above the entrance of the tent was a crudely painted sign reading "The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle."

Frowning, he turned to his uncle. "Where are we?"

"Uhh…" Sam pretended to focus intently on parking the car. He exited the Impala quickly, Noah following behind, questioning.

Sam and Noah were getting out as Alice pulled up behind them. As the trio got out from that car, Sam tried to ignore the bitchy glares his brother was sending him, even when he went to help him.

"Man, you are a lying bastard. Thought you said we were going to see a doctor," Dean muttered under his breath as Sam helped him out of the car.

"I believe I said a specialist. Look Dean, this guy's supposed to be the real deal."

Alice joined the two men and glared pointedly at Sam. " _Seriously?"_

"What?"

" _What?_ Was Joel Osteen taken?" Alice snapped quietly. Dean started chuckling at that.

Ignoring his response, Alice indignantly continued. "Look, that's now how God operates, Sam. All those TV evangelists and anyone of the sort are all fakes. You can't just ask God to-" Alice immediately stopped talking and coughed when Cara and Noah ambled over to the group, both wary of their surroundings.

The kids were the first to notice a man arguing with a cop. Cara had nudged Noah in the ribs, and the two quietly watched the altercation. The protesting man pointed indignantly towards the tent. "I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he's milking all these people out of their hard-earned money." He held a sign that read "Roy LeGrange is a Fraud" in all red block letters.

Cara felt her mouth turning down into a frown. _What the_ hell _were they doing here?_ Looking at her brother, she could tell he was thinking something along the same lines.

Looking aggravated, the cop flexed his arms. "This is a place of worship. Let's go. Move it along."

Obviously not wanting to chance getting arrested, the man stalked away, the cop trailing behind to make sure the he actually left.

"I take it he's not part of the flock," Dean commented.

" _Dean,"_ Alice hissed. She smacked his chest and nodded back at Cara and Noah, whose attention was swivelling back to their parents and uncle.

"What? It's not like you believe any of this anyway. And I'm not gonna give my kids false hope. I mean come on, Sam. A faith healer?" Dean turned his attention from Alice to Sam.

"Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean."

"You know what I've got faith in? Reality. Knowing what's really going on."

Sam shook his head. "How can you be a skeptic? With the things we see everyday."

"That's enough you two," Alice cut across. "No more." She nudged her head back at Cara and Noah, who were silently listening to their conversation, seemingly just absorbing everything the adults were saying. It was easy to see both weren't convinced by the spectacle. It was also obvious they knew something wasn't sitting right with the adults.

"What are we doing here?" Noah finally asked, entering the adult's circle.

Sam cleared his throat. "Hopefully Pastor LeGrange can heal your father-"

"Uncle Sam…" Cara began, but slowly trailed off. Her tone was lofty and and questioning, but it was obvious There was still a small part of her that was clinging to hope.

Alice sighed in aggravation. She didn't know what to tell her kids. She wanted them to have faith, but _this_ was so obviously a sham, even if there was a _caring_ God. And she could tell even _they_ saw through the bullshit "Let's just go in. Okay?" she suggested tiredly.

The family entered the tent and Sam immediately headed for the front row, with Dean in tow. Mumbling under her breath Alice followed behind them, Cara and Noah bringing up the rear.

The inside was dimly lit, the only light source a few candles up on a makeshift altar. A heavy, intricately decorated wrought iron cross sat in the middle of the candles.

In stark contrast with that, security cameras hung around the tent.

"Uh _huh_ peace, love, and trust all over," Dean grumbled as they made their way towards the front.

As the group huddled around the pew, Dean tried to go in first, but Sam pulled him back. Alice slid in first, followed by Noah, then Cara. Dean tried to slide in after his daughter, but Sam pulled him back once again.

"Dude, _seriously?"_

"Sit on the end so you can get out."

"This is ridiculous," Dena growled, as Sam slid in. Reluctantly Dean slid in last, on the end of the pew in the very front. He felt exposed.

"Perfect."

"Yeah, _perfect,"_ Dean mocked, pouting.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Dean leaned past his brother to his daughter, who was staring at him with a strange expression on her face.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

Abruptly leaning back, Cara swallowed. "N-nothing." How was _she_ supposed to have hope when her father didn't even have any?

"Cara," Dean began, but before he could continue, the audience hushed as a gray haired man in sunglasses was ushered onto stage by a woman with a tight bun and a cross around her neck. She had a stony expression on her face, that was poorly veiled by a smile.

Alice could tell that smile was fake.

Because it had suddenly struck Alice how much that woman reminded her of her mother, Sherry Mercer, right down to the mannerisms.

That revelation alone put a bad taste in Alice's mouth.

Leaning back in distaste, Alice crossed her arms tightly across her chest, growing wearier and warier with each passing minute.

Glancing down the pew at everyone, Sam hoped this would work. It _needed_ to work. Of course, Sam hadn't told Alice his contact had been a hunter he'd found in his father's journal. He was just glad she'd been too baffled and taken off guard by the whole event to question it. He was prepared for later, when she ambushed him. But first, this _had_ to work.

Roy's hands attempted to reach for the sides of the lectern. After several attempts, he finally gripped the edges as the crowd quieted.

"He's blind?"

" _Noah,"_ Alice hissed, mortified at how loud her son had asked the question.

Roy's head swiveled towards the source of the sound. He smiled. "Yes I am, young man. Children. Truly a gift from God."

A chorus of _amens_ echoed throughout the tent. The Winchester/Mercer family winced and looked around with varying levels of embarrassment and discomfort.

As the murmurs died down, Roy began. "Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good does it?"

The people in the audience nodded and murmured in affirmation.

"Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act," Roy continued. "But I say to you, God is watching."

Alice swallowed as the crowd fervently agreed.

"God rewards the good and punishes the corrupt."

Feeling like crawling into a shell or storming out of the tent, Alice's eyes darted from side to side. It felt like everyone was watching her, like they knew her sins by name, the levity of her actions. In her head was a tug of war of the doubt that gnawed at her and the guilt of that doubt and for the things she should've done differently. She'd lied to a _nun_ and had been running from God and then reaching out to Him at the same time.

Clenching and unclenching her fists in her hands, Alice tried to take some deep, quiet breaths. Her heart was hammering away in her chest. The beat increased with each guilt-inducing statement Roy proclaimed.

"It is the Lord who does the healing here friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

Dean scoffed, not buying this crap the crook was putting down. "Yeah and into their wallets," Dean muttered snidely to Sam, from the corner of his mouth.

A faint smile graced Roy's lips. "You think so, young man?"

Immediately, the crowd became silent. And Alice knew now people were actually looking at them.

"Sorry," Dean said.

Waving a hand, Roy laughed it off. "No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man. We have real sharp ears." The crowd laughed in response.

"What's your name, son?"

"Uh...Dean."

Roy nodded at that, like the answer didn't surprise him. "Dean. Strong name. I want you to come up here with me."

"Nah. It's okay."

"What are you doing?!" Sam poked his brother sharply in the arm.

"But you've come here to be healed, haven't you?" Roy asked.

Glaring at Sam, Dean reluctantly answered the blind man. "Well yeah I guess...but maybe you should pick someone else."

Roy seemed almost amused by Dean's hesitation. "Oh no. I didn't pick you, Dean. The Lord did."

Starting to feel exceedingly uncomfortable by everything and the atmosphere of the excited audience, Alice was beginning to wonder if there was more to this than met the eye. Sam was obviously eager for Dean to get up on that stage. It made her wonder what he hadn't told them.

And although she knew they hunted monsters, dancing with death didn't seem like a smart idea.

But if it could _work…_

After pressure from the crowd and Sam, Dean found himself reluctantly up from his seat, slowly moving towards the stage. He could feel the creepy, brainwashed eyes of the crowd behind, drilling into his back. _I swear I'm gonna kill you Sam,_ he thought as he climbed the wooden stairs.

Sue Ann ushered Dean to stand beside Roy.

He looked out at the crowd, focusing on the first row. Sam was forward in his seat, eager for the process to begin. Cara and Noah looked anxious and unsure. Dean immediately wished they weren't here. Although this place was supposedly "family-friendly" and supposedly churchy, it gave off a more culty vibe. He didn't like Cara and Noah surrounded by a bunch of fanatical drones.

"You ready?" Roy asked.

Finally, Dean made eye contact with Alice. She was nervously biting her nail, rigid in her seat. He knew she probably wanted to be here even less than he did.

Returning his gaze, Alice stopped her fidgeting and became still. She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes conflicted. But eventually, she gave a subtle, reluctant nod.

"As ready as I will be, I guess."

Roy placed one hand on Dean's hand and raised the other one in the air. "Pray with me friends. Alright now. Alright now."

As Roy continued to mutter, Dean began to look strange. His eyes began to droop, mouth hanging open. Eventually, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, still.

In a frantic blur, Sam, Alice, and both kids were up on their feet, simultaneously yelling "Dean!" and "Dad!" while the crowd roared with ironic applause in the background.

Alice had thrown herself onto Dean's body, tears streaming down her face. "No no no Dean no!" Alice muttered hands pulling at his shoulders begging him to wake up. "We weren't supposed to be like this!"

There was a growing, irrational panic that Alice had caused this. God was punishing her for the sinful live she'd led and the lack of faith she'd had in Him. She thought God was just cold, but she hadn't believed he was wrathful. Not until now.

While she continued to shake, Roy's voice came behind them. "Don't you worry kids, God has taken care of your dad and restored his health. Now young lady, there's no need to cry. Take him to the doctor and they'll tell you he's fine."

As Roy spoke, Dean's eyes fluttered and Alice let out a relieved gasp. Her hands moved to either side of his face as he stared in confusion over her left shoulder.

"Dean, you're okay," Alice reassured.

A heavy hand fell on Alice's shoulder and she whipped around.

Roy's wife Sue Ann was staring down at her with a superior, icy grin. "You see young lady, the Lord works in mysterious ways."

* * *

In a crappily lit patient room of the closest hospital to LeGrange's religious circus, Dean sat in a white paper gown on a flat mattress, with crossed arms and a stoic expression on his face.

"So you really feel okay?" Sam asked from where he stood near the doorway.

"I feel fine, Sam."

Noticing how Dean was avoiding his gaze, Sam was about to ask him again when Alice re-entered the room. "So," she began. "I talked to the doctor."

Sam perked up. "Yeah? What'd they say?"

She glanced at him sideways, with a slightly scathing glance. "That it's is a _freaking_ miracle. According to the tests, there's nothing wrong with him. I looked at the tests too and there was no sign there was anything _ever_ wrong with your heart, Dean. The doctor almost didn't believe you had a heart attack."

"That's odd," Dean intoned quietly.

"Not just odd. You're a medical anomaly, Dean." Alice kept her voice soft and careful while she talked to him. She saved her wrath for when she rounded on Sam.

"What the hell did you do?"

Shocked at the way she had spoken to him, it took Sam a moment to realize she _was_ in fact talking to him.

"What?" Sam asked in confusion.

"I wanna know where the hell you found this 'faith healer' Sam, and what kind of sacrilegious-"

"Where are Cara and Noah." Sam asked, trying to change the conversation.

"In the cafeteria," Alice brusquely responded. "Don't try to change the subject you-"

"You used Dad's journal, didn't you?" Dean cut in, fully participating in the conversation.

Sam nodded. "Yeah there was a contact that told me about Roy."

Dean shook his head. "You shouldn't have done that."

"What, why?"

"There's something off about this whole thing."

Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, do we really have to look this thing in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

"Because I just can't shake this feeling, that's why."

"What feeling?" Alice asked.

Dean glanced between Alice and Sam, standing on opposite sides of the bed. He gestured helplessly. "When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you Sam, it was a spirit."

"A spirit?" Alice squeaked just as Dean's doctor entered the room.

"A spirit- _the_ spirit of the Lord healed you, honey. What a miracle. Amen," Alice awkwardly fumbled as the doctor gave her a curious glance. She coughed and smiled at him innocently.

"What's up, Doc?" Dean asked.

The doctor smirked and shuffled through his clipboard. "Just wanted to do one last check on you before you go. Of course, everything looks good. No sign there was ever anything wrong. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble. Although strange, it does still happen."

"What do you mean, strange?" Dean asked.

"Well, just yesterday, we had a patient, a young man, just like you, twenty-seven, athletic. And then out of nowhere, heart attack. Take care."

"Thanks, Doc."

"No problem," the doctor said as he left the room.

With raised eyebrows, Dean gave his younger brother a pointed look. "You believe me now that there's something off?"

Sam shrugged, a little more unsure. "Well, what do you wanna do then?"

"I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. I'm gonna visit the reverend."

"You can't be serious, Dean!"

"Huh?" Dean looked at Alice in confusion.

"You just got healed by healed and now you wanna go poking at the thing that healed you?! Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Dean!"

"I thought you weren't okay with this. You're telling me you don't want answers?"

She shrugged, torn. "I'm damn curious, but if sniffing around the thing is gonna reverse what happened to you-"

A bit frustrated, Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Allie, I know the risks. But this is what we do, and if you don't like it, then don't let the door smack you on the way out."

There was silence for the moment, and Sam was slowly beginning to backpedal towards the door.

Alice's mouth flattened into a thin line. She crossed her arms. Giving Dean her signature "motherly" glower, normally reserved for Cara and Noah, Alice began tapping her foot. "You really think you're gonna be able to scare me away now, Winchester?"

Dean's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "I-I-"

She leaned forward and pecked a kiss on his open mouth. "I'm gonna take the kids back to the motel. Call me if you find anything."

* * *

Cara and Noah sat at a table in one corner of the cafeteria, with instructions not to move until someone came back to get them. Their mother had brought them there to get something to eat while she talked to the doctor.

Out of boredom, Noah was blowing raspberries as his head laid on his arm. Cara was holding her glasses in her hands and pulling them away and back to her face, watching through the lenses as the scene around her changed, from bigger to smaller, and from sharper to blurrier.

Their fear of their father collapsing to the excitement of finding out he was okay had dissolved into boredom as they waited for someone to come get them. They had finished their food ages ago and now the warped cafeteria trays sat forlornly on the table, abandoned.

They had discussed Roy LeGrange to great lengths and decided they didn't understand anything of what was going on. Alice tried to convince them it was a miracle from God, but both had heard her talk about her disbelief on the issue to their uncle and father.

They were eventually left with Alice flat out telling them to stop asking questions in a tone that indicated Alice didn't want either of them trying to cross her.

"Should we just go back up to his room?" Cara asked. She was in sixth grade and thought it was ridiculous she had to wait for her mommy to come pick her up, especially when there were much more pressing things to worry about.

"Mom said to wait," Noah muttered half heartedly.

"I know where the room is. You just go down the hall and then turn left-"

"Hi Mom," Noah piped up as Alice suddenly approached.

She seemed ruffled as she came to the table, like she was in a hurry. "Sorry it took so long."

"But Dad's okay? The doctor said so?" Cara demanded, needing the reassurance.

"Yes. Dad's good as new."

"Can we see him?" Noah asked.

Apprehensively, Alice wrung her hands together and mentally prepped herself. "Not right now. We're going back to the hotel."

"What? Why?"

She sighed. "Dad and Uncle Sam have some things to take care of."

"What things?" Noah asked impatiently. Cara wanted to see her father, but she was just so relieved he was okay, that she didn't want to add to the stress everyone was feeling. So she remained silent.

"I don't know. They didn't say."

Neither of them were buying the weak explanations their mother was giving, and even though Cara had internally swore she would behave herself, she was irritated her mother was treating her like they were too stupid to understand what was going on. She clamped her mouth shut and looked down at the table, trying to remain quiet.

"You didn't _ask?"_ Noah asked sassily.

"No, I didn't."

 _Don't ask don't tell._ Cara scoffed. That was the code in which their family lived by when it came to what their dad did when he wasn't with them-which was most of the time. To Alice, she at least knew what Dean did with his time. Cara and Noah had no idea.

Not a clue.

"Aren't you curious?" Noah inquired, staring at his mother intently.

Alice clenched her teeth. She was always glad her kids were so smart and so intuitive. She had always encouraged their inquisitiveness, but as they grew older and more aware, it became harder and harder to explain things she hardly understood, and hardly believed.

"It's none of my business," she responded.

"But he's your-" Noah stopped himself. What _were_ his parents to each other? They weren't married. Weren't even really boyfriend and girlfriend. "But it's Dad."

"I've never asked. Look, it's been a long few days. I'm sure you guys are tired-"

"Stop treating us like we're babies!" Cara spontaneously spat. She was up, one knee resting on the bench, the other foot placed firmly on the ground. Her hands were pressed against the table as she leaned forward and glared at her mother.

Alice raised her eyebrows, forcing herself to stand her ground. If there was one thing about Cara-the girl thought she was grown, and she insisted she be treated as such.

"Yeah! We know something's going on that you're not telling us!" Noah added, egged on by his older sister. "This whole thing has been super weird and now suddenly you're acting like everything is fine! Stop lying to us!"

While they weren't exactly wrong, Alice wasn't going to let herself be disrespected by her kids that had no idea what was going on. They didn't know what they were talking about, and it was her job to make sure it remained that way, even if it meant bringing down the hammer, and making them hate her for a little longer.

She'd rather they hate her and be safe than like her and be in danger.

She hated it had to be that way, but that was the way it was.

"You're not a baby, Cara. I know you're very mature, but you're not an adult either. And Noah, don't you dare accuse me of lying to you again."

Alice intensified her tone and gave the two a stern, motherly look. "I told you two no more questions about this. So _cut it out._ One more word or complaint from either of you and I'll ground you two for a month. _Got it?"_

Surprised by the uncharacteristic harshness from their mother, Cara and Noah blinked rapidly. Verbally slapped, they slowly nodded with lowered eyes, afraid to look at her.

Wishing she hadn't had to go there with them, Alice maintained her current composure. Any crack or insecurity in her character was something they could use against her. She wasn't going to let them undermine her. She was their mother and she knew what was best for them, even if they didn't like it.

"Okay, good. Throw your garbage away and put those trays back from where you got them. We're leaving."

Doing as they were told, Cara and Noah sullenly did as they were told and began to follow their mother out of the cafeteria, out of the hospital, and without their father.

Heart racing in a mixture of anger at the fact her kids wouldn't take her crappy word, and Dean for just leaving, and also the fact there was a case here, Alice tried to keep her breathing level and face even and smooth. It was times like this she wished she had a normal, nuclear family. It was _so hard_ when she had to be the bad cop all the time. She was the one who had to discipline on a day to day basis. And although Dean did occasionally when he came over, he didn't do it with much gusto. Alice knew he felt guilty and didn't want to have Cara and Noah be mad at him for the small amount of time he was over. So that was why he was usually a pushover when it came to behavioral issues. And _now_ that he had been pulled back from the brink of death and Alice wasn't even allowing them to see him, she knew they were going to resent her for that too.

If she had a husband or least a consistent parent, she could lean on them and talk to him. And although she _loved_ Dean and loved it when he came to visit, she often felt lonely.

And now, he was off working a case with his brother. His two lives were bumping up against one another, with Alice the only buffer between hunting and his children.

Add that to her own existential crisis of faith and self, and the loneliness and hardship of raising two kids virtually alone, Alice didn't know how much more she could take.

She wasn't Atlas, after all.

* * *

Slamming the motel door behind him, Dean tossed his keys and jacket onto the table. He had just gotten back from talking to Roy and his wife Sue Ann. According to the couple, Dean being healed had been a miracle, the grace of God. He hadn't believed it.

And then, not able to contain himself, Dean asked why Roy had chosen him of all people, to be healed.

" _I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest. A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished."_ That was what Roy had said.

What had that job been? Was it to find his father? Or be a better father? Dean had wondered this briefly, before deciding Roy was nothing more than a crazy, maybe evil, old con man with something supernatural in his pocket.

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Dean glanced up at Sam. "Sorry about what?" he approached the bed Sam was slumped against.

"Marshall Hall died at 4:17." Marshall Hall was the man who died of a heart attack mentioned by the doctor after they had determined Dean was fine.

"Same time as me," Dean muttered. "How'd he die?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Heart attack," Sam supplied. He shuffled through some papers on his lap. "Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time."

"So, someone's healed of cancer and someone else dies of cancer?"

Sam nodded slowly, looking somewhat ill. "Somehow, LeGrange...he's trading one life for another."

With a sickening realization, Dean sank down onto the edge of the bed. "Wait, wait, wait. So you're saying Marshall Hall died to save me?"

"Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed."

"You should've never brought me here," Dean whispered. A man, an innocent man, was dead in place of him.

How was he supposed to live with that?

"I was just trying to save your life," Sam pleaded, maybe a bit with himself as well. After all, this whole thing had been his idea.

"Yeah, but now some poor bastard is dead because of me."

"I didn't know...but Dean, your kids won't have to grow up without a father."

Feeling the parallels between his own kids and himself and Sam, Dean just shook his head.

"The thing I don't understand," Sam began. "Is how Roy is doing it. How is he trading one life for another?"

"Oh, he's not doing it. Something else is doing it for him."

Sam glanced up at Dean's side profile. "What do you mean?"

"The old man I saw on stage. I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down I knew."

Startled and concerned, Sam pushed the papers to the side and swung his legs over the bed so he sat knee to knee with his brother. "You knew what? What are you talking about?"

"There's only one thing that can give and take a life like that."

Sam shrugged, when he didn't catch on to what Dean was saying.

Dean glanced at his brother. "We're dealing with a reaper."

* * *

"The Grim Reaper? Like with a scythe?" Alice asked into the phone. Her back was pressed against the outside of the motel room door. Inside, Cara and Noah were in bed, hopefully sleeping.

" _That_ 's what I said," Sam replied excitedly. Alice could tell Dean was rolling his eyes from the other end of the phone. They had her on speaker while they filled her in on what they were dealing with.

It was strange.

"No. Just a regular reaper. Pretty much every culture on earth has lore on it. They stop time, ad you see them when they die. They collect your soul," Dean supplied.

"Oh. That's…" Alice trailed off, not sure what to say.

"The question is, how is Roy controlling the damn thing?" Dean asked, ignoring Alice's comment. She was grateful for that.

"That cross."

"What?" Alice asked.

"There was this cross in the church-"

"The one on the altar," Alice added. She remembered it. It was big, iron, and had made her feel strange when she looked at it

"Yeah," Sam said, sounding surprised. "I knew I recognized it from somewhere. It's a design on a Tarot card."

From the line, Alice listened as Sam handed Dean a Tarot card and explained it to him.

"You have Tarot cards?" Alice asked, feeling the Sunday school girl inside her cringing.

"Yup," Dean said. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"You guys don't have a Ouija board, do you?"

Both of them laughed at her hesitant and uncomfortable tone of voice.

"No, we don't have a Ouija board," Sam responded, chuckling at her innocence. "Not like they work anyways."

"What? You never played with one of those at a sleepover?" Dean asked.

Alice scoffed. "You've met my parents. They thought Halloween was the Devil's birthday."

"Right. If anything, I'd think Tax Day would be the Devil's birthday."

"Like you pay taxes," Alice responded.

"Right you are," Dean laughed.

"Guys, can we focus?" Sam asked, voice in the background.

"Sorry," both Dean and Alice responded at once.

" _Anyways._ Tarot cards date back to early Christian eras, back when priests were still using magic. And if I remember correctly, a few of them veered off into some pretty dark stuff. Stuff like necromancy and how to push death away, and how to cause it."

Alice blanched. The Christianity she had grown up with had always claimed to be perfect and pure. And it seemed almost blasphemous to suggests priests used to have such sacrilegious practices, even though she herself hadn't been completely Christian in a long time.

"So...magic is real?" Alice asked.

There was another round of chuckles. "Oh you're so cute," Dean commented. He turned his attention back to Sam "So, you're saying Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?" Dean asked.

"If he is, he's riding a whirlwind. It's like putting a leash on a great white."

Alice's stomach lurched at that.

"Okay. Then we stop Roy," Dean said.

"How?"

"You know how, Sam."

There was silence on the other and, and Alice pressed the phone closer to her ear.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean? We can't kill Roy."

Alice's stomach completely dropped at that.

Dean gave an aggravated sigh. "Sam, the guy is playing God. He's deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book."

"No. We're not going to kill a human being. We do that, we're not any better than he is."

"He's no human-" Dean began.

"Dean," Alice said. "You can't kill him. You just _can't."_ She couldn't believe she was even having this conversation. It felt like she was dreaming.

There was a charged silence over the line. "This is what we do, Allie."

"'Don't let the door smack you on the way out' I know."

"I didn't mean that. I was-"

Alice cut Dean off. "Look, I may not know a monster from Adam, but the faith Roy had seemed genuine. He's not a monster. He's just a man thinking he's doing the right thing." She scoffed. "Now if you ask me, his wife seemed more malicious than he did." She added the last part carelessly, a bit jokingly.

"Sue Ann? Yeah, right. No one that evil can make chocolate chip cookies that good," Dean said.

"Would you two stop flirting so we can focus on the case?" Sam asked. He sounded irritated with the two.

"Okay then. We can't kill Roy and we can't kill death. Any bright ideas college boy?" Dean inquired mockingly. Alice snorted from her end.

There was the sound of papers being moved around. "Okay. Uh...if Roy's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta figure out what it is. And how to break it."

"Alright, well get cracking on that Mr. Ivy League."

"Dean why don't you-"

Sam's voice suddenly cut out.

"I took you off speaker," Dean informed. "How are the kids?"

Alice rubbed a hand across her forehead. "Pouting."

"What? Why?"

"They're mad at me because I wouldn't let them say goodbye to you. And they kept asking questions I couldn't answer. They eventually stopped under threat of grounding."

"Well, you had to lay down the law. I know it's hard, but you're doing the right thing. They can't know about this."

"I agree. It's just exhausting, you know?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I know. But you're a great mother."

She scoffed quietly. She didn't feel like it all the time. "Maybe I can understand better after you take me on that hunt."

There was hesitation before he responded. "Wouldn't you rather go mini golfing or wine tasting?"

"Nope. You promised me on your deathbed. You're not getting out of this one. Not that I wouldn't love to see you sipping wine in a vineyard."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mercer."

She scoffed. "Go save the day, Winchester. Night."

"Night Allie. Love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

The next morning, the brothers returned to LeGrange's tent to finish the job.

Inside the tent, a young woman named Layla with a brain tumor ascended the stage to be healed by Roy. Dean had failed to distract Roy and Layla, so now, he watched helplessly as she moved to the center of the stage, in the similar location to where he had stood only a few days before.

But now, he knew what the stakes were.

Pulling out his phone, Dean quickly called his brother. "Sam, hurry. Layla's already on stage."

"On it."

Outside of the tent, Sam hung up the phone. He was keeping a close eye on the protesting man, next likely target of LeGrange's twisted soul acrobatics. Approaching the man, Sam quickly told him he was in danger.

The protesting man gave Sam a look like he was crazy. "What are you talking about? You're as insane as the rest of them."

"Please! Let me help you!" Sam pleaded.

"Get away from me!" The man stomped away from Sam.

As Sam went to follow the man, his phone rang. Seeing it was Dean calling him, he quickly answered. "Dean. I'm following the man, but he doesn't see anything. Are you sure he's the one who-"

Dean's frantic voice cut him off. "Sam, it's Alice! She's the one the reaper is going after!"

"What? How?" Sam felt his heart twist.

"I don't know! But Cara called me in a panic! I'm on my way to the motel. Sam, you have to finish it!"

Feeling like there was a weight in his gut, Sam felt himself begin to run on pure adrenaline. "I will, Dean."

* * *

 **Earlier**

* * *

"I told you two to pack!" Alice exclaimed loudly as she shoved her clothes into her poorly packed bag. Dean and Sam were finishing the hunt and she was tidying everything up.

In the middle of packing, Cara and Noah had abandoned their things and were watching some obnoxiously animated show on the grainy TV. They paid no mind to her, completely entranced by the colors and irritating voices.

At the end of her rope with the two of them, she grabbed the remote and turned the television off, met with the chorus of protests from the two.

"No. No TV until you're done packing. I told you already."

"The episode was almost over!" Noah insisted.

"We can watch and pack at the same time!" Cara retorted.

"I don't want to hear it from either of you!" She shouted, on the verge of losing her temper. "For the love of God, can you two just do as you're told without complaining for _once?"_

She snapped around with that last part, glaring angrily at the two.

Upon seeing their betrayed, broken faces, any anger she was feeling dissipated from her body.

Deflating and feeling her heart sink, Alice took a step forward. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean it. I-"

Stopping cold, Alice's gaze moved behind them.

Behind her kids, standing between the two beds, was an old man in a suit. His skin was papery and white. His face was expressionless.

"Who are you?" Alice demanded. She began to reach for Cara and Noah to pull them away from the man.

"Who are you talking to?" One of them asked. Alice wasn't sure which one.

All that she was aware of was the man was slowly moving closer to her and her kids. Shoving Cara and Noah behind her, she began to move them towards the door. "Stay away from us!" While Alice yelled for the old man to get away, the sounds around her were becoming muffled. Her heart began beating fast, and her breaths were becoming more labored.

"Mom there's no one there!" Someone yelled. It sounded like they were shouting to her from land while she was under water.

With a blink, Alice was suddenly on her knees, and the man in the suit was in front of her.

Looking into his white, flat eyes reminded her of Roy LeGrange's clouded ones.

Roy LeGrange.

The man who had healed Dean by trading his life for another through a reaper.

A reaper.

The man in front of her was a reaper.

Cara and Noah couldn't see him.

And that meant he was here to collect her soul in place of another.

Hardly able to breathe, Alice felt herself falling forward. Cara and Noah were suddenly in front of her, holding her up while she knelt in front of them. They were screaming.

"Mom! Mom! What's wrong!"

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Please!"

"Call 911!" One of them screamed.

Through their wails, her weak, shaky hand pointed towards the nightstand behind them, to her cell phone. "Call your Dad."

"Mom, no, we need to call an ambulance!"

Tears ran down both their faces.

"Call him!" Alice demanded. And suddenly, her vision blurred and she felt herself gasping for breath, like a freshly caught fish flopping on the deck of a boat.

"Noah, watch her!" Cara animated into action and lunged for the phone behind her. Going to the first button on speed dial, she pressed the button and held the phone to her ear, gasping and crying as she returned to their mother, who had begun to seize.

Before Dean could even answer, Cara was crying incoherently into the phone.

"Cara? Cara! What's wrong?" Dean demanded from the other end.

"Something's wrong with Mom!' Cara screamed. "Mom! Mom!" She cried to her mother.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know! She's-she's not breathing. She said to call you!"

"Okay, listen. I need you to stay calm. I'm on my way right now. I'll be there in five minutes. Okay? Stay calm okay? And keep her talking I'll be there soon. Do _not_ call 911, okay?"

"But Daddy I-"

But he had already hung up.

With a cry, Cara let the phone drop and returned to calling for her mother, alongside her brother.

* * *

If Dean thought in the past he had driven fast, then all those times were child's play compared to how fast he flew down the road.

He had a tunnel vision, only able to think of one thing.

Alice

 _Alice._

 _ALICE._

It hadn't even occurred to him to destroy the cross and call off the reaper. He _had_ to be with her _now._ Hearing Cara crying on the phone and Noah begging Alice to wake up in the background electrocuted his heart all over again.

It felt like he reached the motel in a year and a second all at once. He parked illegally in front of the door and didn't bother to remove the keys from the ignition. Not even bothering to turn the knob, Dean kicked down the door with so much force, it came off the hinges.

Using the momentum to carry himself forward, Dean rushed forward and fell to his knees. One the ground, Alice's face was white, lips blue. Her eyes were wide and she was fruitlessly gasping for air. Cara and Noah on either side of her greeted their father with cries of uncertainty.

"I need you two to back up, okay?" Dean demanded.

"But Dad-"

" _NOW!"_ He yelled forcefully.

Quickly, the two backed up and leaned over him, watching tearfully.

How unfair that they had nearly lost one parent, and now they were going to lose another.

Only now, they were watching the life being sucked out of their mother.

Leaning over Alice, Dean placed his hands on other side of her face. "Sam's gonna fix this. Stay with me, stay with me, okay? Hey, hey, look at me. You remember that time we snuck out and went to that junkyard? Huh? And we climbed up this pile of trash to this old bathtub?"

Alice's eyelids fluttered.

Dean's voice became more desperate. He was beginning to break down. "No. No don't do this. Come on. I didn't go anywhere and neither are you. Remember I still owe you that hunt? I promised."

Her struggles for air were becoming subdued.

"Don't you dare. Don't you go. Don't you dare, Alice Mercer! I love you! You hear me? I love you!"

Her eyes closed and chest collapsed.

"Allie? No no no no no no. Allie! Come on. Open your eyes! Hey. Hey! Allie. Damnit Allie! No!" Dean continued to yell incoherently as his phone rang.

Not even hearing it go off, Noah grabbed it and answered it. "Uncle Sam?" he asked, sniffling. His mother was dead. Alice was dead.

"Noah?" Sam sounded out of breath but relieved. "Is your dad there? Can I talk to him?"

As Sam asked that, there was a sudden gasp of air as Alice's chest elevated and her eyes opened wide. Her hands flew up to her throat and she felt her lungs begin to expand again. Her vision focused and no longer was there an emotionless old man floating above her. Instead, it was a worried Dean with red, teary eyes. His hands gripped either side of her face in terror.

There was a blur of movement as Dean roughly pulled Alice up into a hug. He pulled her tightly to him, gripping her so hard it hurt. Pulling away a bit, he then crushed his lips to her breathless ones, hands winding in her hair. She clung onto his arms weakly.

Once they pulled away, Cara was there, sandwiching herself between them, one arm around of the their necks, clinging to her parents.

Watching in shock, Noah listened to his uncle's voice in his ear. "Noah? Are you there? Can you tell your dad it's done? Is your mom okay?"

"Yeah. She's umm. She's…okay." He trailed off, letting the phone drop from his hand as he was pulled into the group hug by Dean. The father wrapped his arms around the three of them and breathed deeply.

Grabbing the phone with one hand, Alice held it to her ear. "Sam?"

He sounded surprised. "Are you okay?"

Still out of breath, but _breathing,_ Alice responded. "Yeah. I'm okay. You finish it?"

"Yeah. It's over. And you were right. It was Sue Ann. Roy had no idea what was going on."

She felt herself let out an unbelievable laugh. "Knew it."

"Yeah, sure you did. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"We'll be here."

They hung up the phone, and the family clung to each other.

They were in tact.

 _Alive._

* * *

Sam arrived awhile later, and quickly pulled Alice into a hug. Once they pulled away, Dean was quick to pull his brother into a hug.

"Thank you for saving her," Dean whispered and he patted Sam on the back.

"That's what you do for family," Sam responded.

Dean smiled at his brother, looking fondly back at Alice.

She was sitting on one of the beds, arms around Cara and Noah who were sniffling quietly. She was comforting them in a low whisper.

Here she was, back from near death, and selflessly taking care of her children.

God he _loved_ her, Dean thought.

His heart dropped for a minute when he realized how close he came to almost losing her and what that would've done to him.

He was never going to let her go again.

No matter what.

* * *

It had been a bit messy, but Dean, Sam, and Alice were able to patch together a flimsy story of what had happened. Alice's near death had been a severe panic attack at the thought of Dean almost dying from a heart attack. She had irrationally convinced herself he was dead. The fact she had wanted to call Dean instead of an ambulance was because she needed to hear his voice to convince herself he was actually alive, and not dead. And Sam calling was to tell Dean that the last test from the hospital had come back and was done.

The adults were almost certain Cara and Noah didn't completely believe the story, but they were too emotionally raw to care.

As for Dean breaking down the door, he explained he had taken martial arts classes in the past, and he had been so worried about Alice that he had simply done it out of worry. As for the hunt part, that was easy enough. Cara and Noah were told their father enjoyed big game hunting as a pastime, and that he had promised to take their mother deer hunting in the near future.

Out of pure exhaustion, Cara and Noah had passed out soon after that, after assurances their parents weren't going anywhere.

To give them privacy, Sam had gone back to his motel room.

Currently, Dean and Alice sat side by side on the pull out couch. Cara and Noah had fallen asleep sprawled out across the two queen sized beds.

Dean held one of Alice's hands in his own, delicately tracing over each finger and her palm. He had memorized how her body felt already, but needed a reminder of something as simple as her hand.

"I can't believe that bitch sent a reaper after you," Dean muttered softly.

Alice shrugged, pretending like she hadn't thought about it.

But she had.

She didn't know for sure but somehow, _somehow,_ Sue Ann had sensed the guilt that was gnawing at Alice. She knew the stains that were on Alice's heart, and the poor foundation that was supposed to be her faith. Perhaps it made her an easy target.

"I don't know," Alice lied.

"I can't believe I almost lost you today," he whispered.

"Can't believe I almost lost you too." Alice still felt weak. Her voice was hoarse, like she had been screaming. "Let's not talk about it. We're both okay and our kids are okay. Let's just enjoy this right now. Okay?"

He nodded, not wanting to think about the past anymore, content to live in the moment.

He didn't want to think about how his kids had almost been orphans twice over, how Noah had dreamed of black eyed demons, Sam's weird visions, his missing dad, or how Alice was weighed down by the supernatural.

Everything he needed was right in that moment.

And he clung to that.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! I know it took me a bit longer than usual to get this out! Finals and what not. From now on, I'm going to try and get at least one chapter out a month. I would like to get out more, but I'm busy with summer classes and work, so I'll try my best!**

 **Please review and let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it!**

 **And stayed tuned for the next chapter! It's gonna include Alice and Dean's hunt and then Cara, Noah, and Sam at Bobby's And there's another surprise in the chapter I don't want to spoil, but it's gonna be good!**

 **Lastly, thank you to everyone who has liked and favorited! I appreciate every single one of my readers!**

 **See you soon and happy summer!**


	26. Learned From the Best

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six: Learned From the Best**

* * *

 **Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

* * *

"Alright, be good. I mean it. If I find out you two were anything less than perfect—"

"Come on, Allie, you know those two are angels," Bobby joked, nudging the mother on the shoulder. He winked at Cara and Noah, who were standing against the wall in Bobby's study, trying not to roll their eyes while the mother berated them gently.

Sighing, Alice nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. "I know. I'm just…" Nervous was the word she was looking for.

Not that she would say that in front of her kids. Or Dean, either. Any sign of hesitation from her and he'd call it off.

"Everything'll be fine," Bobby assured knowingly. "Now, where'd those boys get off to?"

"Nowhere good," Alice grinned. She followed Bobby out of the house, Cara and Noah trailing behind.

They found the brothers near the Impala. Dean had a pinched, slightly pissed off look on his face, while Sam looked amused.

After Alice's endless begging and Dean giving—what he thought were empty—promises, the two were finally going on a hunt. Originally, Alice had asked Sam to watch Cara and Noah, and he had been honored that she trusted him to, but he didn't feel well equipped enough to watch the two of them for a few days to a week. So, Bobby offered to let the three of them stay there while Dean and Alice were on their hunt. Jan was somewhere in Canada, doing God knows what, so that was the best option.

And now, with the car all packed, Alice was full of giddy, nervous energy, ready to see—up close and personal—what Dean did. Although she had nearly been killed by Sue Ann LeGrange a few months back, Alice felt the hunt Dean promised her was long overdue.

"You ready yet Winchester?" Alice asked with mock seriousness.

Frowning more deeply, Dean crossed his arms when Alice tried to take one of his hands. She smirked at him.

"I hate this," he growled to her.

She smirked wider. "And I love this."

"Dad, why are you taking Mom if you don't want to?" Noah asked.

Brushing past Alice, Dean's icy demeanor thawed as he approached his kids. "Noah, one day, you'll realize, women don't take no for an answer."

"Really? Cause Mom said you're afraid she'll shoot more deer than you," Cara said.

Turning his attention to his daughter, Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Mom thinks she can outshoot me? That's cute."

"Put your money where your mouth is, then," Alice taunted from behind him.

Shaking his head lightly, Dean hugged Cara and then Noah. "Your mom is something else," he muttered under his breath. At a louder volume, addressed the two one last time. "I know I don't need to tell you two to behave."

Smiling at the faith their father had in them, Alice fussed over them one last time, as Bobby and Sam both assured her everything was fine, while at the same time, goading Dean for his lack of enthusiasm.

"Bite me, you two," Dean growled, wrenching open the door of the Impala. "Don't poison my kids with your cooking, Bobby," he added, half jokingly, half maliciously.

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. "Boy you better get on the road before I whoop your ass."

"Sorry," Dean muttered, climbing into the Impala. The door shut behind him and he started the engine, and rolled down the window. "If you're not in the car in the next twenty seconds, I'm leaving without you," he called to Alice, partially serious.

From where she stood in front of Cara and Noah, Alice turned over her shoulder and gave him the iciest glare she could manage. In response, Dean rolled up the window, muttering unhappily to himself.

Her kids chuckled as she kissed and hugged them one last time. "I love you two. I'll see you in a couple days. Behave!" She called, hanging halfway out of the car. "And thanks again Sam and Bobby!"

"Go on girl; we've got everything here," Bobby called, waving in response.

Dean eased the Impala away from the house, and the two groups waved to each other as they went their separate ways.

* * *

 **Devil's Lake, North Dakota**

 **A Few Hours Later**

* * *

"You get us a room. I'm gonna poke around the police station, talk to some vics."

Turning around, Alice was about to set her bag on the ground and respond, but Dean, still in the Impala, was already reversing out of the parking lot.

"Dean. Dean!" Alice called weakly, knowing it was fruitless, as the Impala was already out of view.

Realizing he had left her alone in the middle of the motel parking lot, Alice threw her hands up in exasperation. Running a hand through her hair, she replayed the car ride there.

It wasn't often she felt awkward around Dean. But for the entire car ride, every time she would try to say something, Dean would give a one word response and turn the music up a little louder. Eventually, she had given up and had angrily stared out the window.

It had been a long car ride.

It was showing more and more that Dean didn't want her to be here. Alice was beginning to think it had been a bad idea since the start. She was sort of wishing she hadn't pushed him to take her on a hunt.

Had she manipulated him? Made him feel guilty? Was it her fault he was angry with her?

Probably.

But did that mean she wasn't angry at him?

Nope.

With a ragged huff, Alice grabbed her duffel and heaved it over her shoulder, turning to enter the office. The rusty bell over the flimsy door rang as Alice entered the tiny room. A single desk that ran the length of the room, and several chairs occupied the space. A young man—probably early twenties—wearing a short sleeve shirt with a puffer vest over it jumped up from the back room and eagerly came to attend to the guest. He tried to give a charming smile, but Alice ended up cringing slightly. He was gangly, had greasy black hair, and a missing front tooth.

"What can I do for you, m'am?"

"I'd like a room. Two doubles if you don't mind." She reached into her wallet and pulled out a fake credit card. Every instinct she had flashed red when Dean handed her the fake card. But he was right. They needed to cover their tracks, even from the get go. And from that get go, they were strictly FBI agents to anyone who asked, even the young man at the motel.

His eyebrows raised at the suggestion she wasn't sharing a bed with someone. "Sure thing." He looked down at the card and frowned. "Janie Joplin? Interesting name." Alice ground her teeth at the fake name. She wanted to hit Dean for giving her something so ridiculous. For someone who was so adamant in covering their tracks, he was sure dumb when it came to picking ridiculous rock aliases.

She gave a fake smile. "My parents were _big_ rock fans. Swore up and down Janis Joplin was a distant cousin."

Nodding his head, he scanned the card and slowly handed it back to her. "If you don't mind me asking, what could a tiny place have to offer to someone like you, Janie?" Her eyes widened a little in panic. Why had he asked that? Was he onto them? Was she _that_ obvious?

"Uh…none of your business," Alice said with more force than she intended, immediately feeling anxious.

Retracting a little, he blinked rapidly. "Jesus. Sorry. I was just trying to be nice." Eyes dropping to the counter, he awkwardly fumbled around and a pulled a key out from under the desk. "Here. Room E."

Gingerly taking the key from the man, Alice watched as he looked down, dejected. God she was paranoid. He wasn't onto her like she thought. He was just trying to be nice.

"Umm…I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I've just…been on the road all day and I'm a little tired."

Perking up a little, the young man nodded. "No. You're right. I was just being nosy."

Alice graciously accepted the apology.

As she left the room, the young man waved after her. "Enjoy your stay in Devil's Lake."

* * *

"What does whiskey taste like?"

"Come again?"

"What does it taste like?" Cara asked again, nodding at the glass in Bobby's hand.

Staring down at the amber liquid, Bobby contemplated for a moment. Eventually, he passed the drink to her. "You tell me."

Cara hesitantly took the glass from him and stared down at it. Bringing to her lips, she sniffed it and grimaced.

"Bobby!" Sam chastised from the opposite side of the table. His mouth was half open, filled with pizza, one hand holding the greasy slice over a plate.

Giving Sam the side-eye, Bobby raised an eyebrow. "One sip won't kill her."

"She's not even eleven!"

"You wanna tell them what you were doing at their ages?"

Clamping his mouth shut, Sam frowned. "Fine. _One_ sip. And that better be a tiny sip, Cara."

With a slow nod, Cara brought the glass to her mouth and took a small sip. Immediately, she slammed the drink down on the table and sputtered, coughing. "My throat is burning."

Chuckling Bobby reclaimed the drink. "Yeah. Whiskey'll do that to you."

"That stuff is terrible. Why would anyone drink that?" Cara continued, quickly taking a sip of her pop.

"It's an acquired taste. You want some, Noah?"

"I'm okay. I'll stick with root beer."

"That's a good man." Bobby clapped Noah on the shoulder and finished off his drink.

The four had shared a large cheese pizza and a lively conversation. It had been a few years since Bobby had seen the kids and they had certainly grown. Both were smart as whips and about as clever as they came. Dean and Allie should've been damn proud of the pair they were raising.

And in a turn of events, Sam had precociously become overprotective of the two. He was worried something terrible would happen to them under his watch, afraid of how his brother and Alice would react. He had grown quite fond of his niece and nephew and the paranoia had set in.

As the meal ended, Sam had relegated himself to doing the dishes, while Bobby went to show Cara some non-lore books he owned. As she was known for being an avid reader, he had tucked away all the books about monsters in the attic.

Growing bored of the small print and boring topics, Noah had gravitated to the kitchen and was helping Sam washing and dry the dishes.

"Uncle Sam?" Noah asked, splicing up the sound of clinking glass and silverware.

"Yeah, buddy?" Sam responded, guard down, as he sponged off a plate.

"What was Jess like?"

Nearly dropping the plate, Sam quickly set it down, and turned to face his nephew. "What?"

A bit bashful, Noah set down the towel he was using to dry dishes. "I just mean…I remember you told me about how you had nightmares about her. And you don't really ever talk about her."

Composing himself, Sam realized Noah was right. It had been weeks since Sam had even mentioned her name. "She was great. Smart, and funny, and kind. Really beautiful. She was gonna be an elementary school teacher. Did you know that?"

"How'd she die?" Noah asked suddenly, not responding to what Sam had just said.

Seeing flashes of blonde hair singeing and the ends of a white nightgown catching fire, tried to vanish the image of her pinned to the ceiling, staring down at him in absolute agony.

And he hadn't done a damn thing.

"There was a fire in our apartment."

"How'd you get out?"

"Your dad actually saved me. Pulled me out of the fire."

Noah frowned. "And grandma died in a fire too?"

"Uh…yeah. When I was a baby."

"Isn't it kind of weird how they both died in a fire? And that you survived twice?" Noah wasn't trying to sound accusatory, but in Sam's mind, he kept thinking Noah was blaming him for both Mary and Jess' death.

"I guess."

"Wow. You're really lucky, Uncle Sam," Noah commented.

Sam tried to smile, but it came out like a grimace.

He wouldn't consider himself lucky.

Maybe unlucky.

But more likely than that: cursed.

* * *

When Dean returned to the room, Alice was curled up on one bed, mindlessly paging through the Bible she found in the nightstand. She didn't even look up to greet him.

"Two beds?" Dean asked, plunking down the twelve pack of beer he had gotten.

Snapping the book shut, Alice finally looked up at him. More like glared.

"You think I wanna share a bed with you?"

Sputtering in confusion, Dean shrugged out of his jacket. "Why not? It's not like I haven't already seen every part of you. Several times. Up close and personal."

"This has nothing to do with me suddenly turning into a prude."

"Then what's wrong?"

Alice swung her legs over the edge of the bed and took a sharp breath. She hated she had to spell this out for him. Was he really _that_ clueless? "You barely talked to me the entire car ride here. And then, as soon as we get here, you dump me in the parking lot of some seedy motel? For what? So you can go get some beer?"

"You knew what you signed up for," Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Did I? I thought I was doing a hunt with Dean Winchester. Not some dick giving me the cold shoulder."

"Whoa what's your problem?"

On her feet, Alice strode up to him. "Look, I know you didn't want to hunt with me in the first place, but here we are. So can you act like an adult about it? Cause I could really use the support. You know, I'm scared out of my mind too. We're hunting a freaking _monster,_ Dean. A _monster._ Things that aren't even supposed to exist."

Out of breath, Alice suddenly took a couple steps back and grabbed her jacket and keys from the table.

"Where are you going?" Dean called after her.

"Oh he speaks!" Alice responded goadingly as she slammed the door behind herself.

* * *

By this age and the fact she was a nurse, Alice should've remembered that alcohol didn't actually make the feelings go away, only damped them. And after time, it just exacerbated them.

She couldn't give two shits about that right now.

Not normally one to do shots, Alice had already had several, only at the bar for about two hours.

And Dean hadn't come after her.

After leaving the motel room, she had brushed away the angry, guilty tears she felt and wrapped her arms around herself, to fight off the cold. Although it was spring, the weather in North Dakota was not as forgiving.

Eventually, tired from the cold and mind a mess, Alice ducked into the Devil's Horn Bar and immediately claimed a barstool for herself.

She had already brushed off several advances from drunken men in the bar. But they were all the same. Unbuttoned flannel, ratty truckers caps covering balding heads, and stained wife beaters stretched over beer bellies.

"Well, you're definitely the prettiest woman in this bar."

Head turning to the side, Alice observed the man who had taken up residence beside her.

Not immediately rebuffing him, she noted his appearance. Neat black hair, rolled up dress shirt with no stains, nice pants. There was a sort of heaviness in his eyes that if she didn't know to look for it, Alice wouldn't have known it was there.

Like her, he was different than anyone else in the bar.

Alice glanced around the room at the other women in the bar. They were all middle aged and just as out of shape as the men. "Oh God I hope so," she laughed, feeling her inhibitions lowered. Still, she could feel the anger and sadness in the back of her heart.

"What's your name?"

"Alice."

"Nice name. I'm Peter."

"Nice name. You gonna buy me a drink, Peter?"

Peter smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to?"

Alice leaned back drunkenly, and pretended to contemplate that. "If you feel like it."

Peter got two more shots from the bartender, who placed one in front of Alice. The two clinked the tiny glasses together and downed the drinks.

Setting down the glass, Alice noted she couldn't feel the liquid burn her throat as much anymore. That drink had been the lucky one, the magic number that was making her forget why she was even there in the first place. "You from out of town Peter? Because I am and you certainly don't look like anyone else here."

Peter sighed and gave a small smile. "Unfortunately no. I'm finishing my residency at the hospital nearby. I guess there aren't many doctors that want to come work in beautiful North Dakota."

Alice found herself letting her hand inch forward on the counter, towards Peter's arm. The alcohol had finally impaired her enough that she had forgotten yelling at Dean earlier. "Really? Cause in my free time I'm actually a nurse."

"I was gonna guess lawyer, but I knew you were smart _and_ beautiful."

Alice felt herself giggle. Actually _giggle_ like a giddy school girl. "What a line." Her hand had found his arm and was rubbing along his bicep.

Peter's eyes glazed over slightly. "If you consider that a line, then what about this?" Gently, he turned her head with one thumb and met her lips with his own. The kiss wasn't very short, but it felt long.

Peter gently pulled away, removing hands from either side of her face.

A bit stunned for a moment, Alice wondered vaguely if she had crossed a line. Not with this man, but with Dean. She didn't know if he slept with other women—he probably did and she didn't actually want to know. She wouldn't be breaking any relationship code by sleeping with this guy. She and Dean were co-parents, at best, and not very good ones, it often seemed.

 _Fine, if he just wants us to be work partners on this hunt, then that's all we'll be._ The thoughts slipped to the forefront of her mind.

Not even remembering thinking them, Alice pitched herself forward, grabbing Peter by the collar of his shirt as she crushed her lips to his.

For the first time in a long time, Alice acknowledged she was a woman, a woman with needs. For years she had been a mother, a nurse, an estranged daughter. But never had she just been _Alice._ She was Allie to Dean, and God knows he thought of her as some prize he'd one, some sweet, innocent girl that he wouldn't treat like an equal.

Fueled by the resentment and anger from the things she tried to forget—that were bubbling up again—Alice pushed herself off the barstool, half climbing onto Peter's lap, arms locking around his neck.

Taken off guard by her sudden forwardness, Peter grabbed onto the counter with one hand to steady himself and grabbed Alice around the waist with the other, anchoring her to him.

"You wanna get out of here?" Peter asked after a couple minutes.

Breathless, Alice couldn't say anything but felt her head begin to nod.

Eagerly, Peter helped her slide off the stool, and he followed quickly. Throwing a few bills onto the counter, Peter waved to the bartender who gave him a sly wink.

Taking Alice by the hand, he led her out the front door of the bar as she stared at the back of his head.

"We can walk. My place isn't too far away," Peter said.

Alice felt herself nodding and hand still in Peter's, she felt her feet begin to move underneath her, down the sidewalk, in the direction of the motel. He must've lived near it.

They walked at a brisk pace. Alice felt her heart racing, veins dilated from the alcohol. She felt extremely out of breath and could hardly feel herself as she stumbled over her legs. Peter walked quickly, obviously eager about getting laid.

They were still walking towards the motel.

With each step Alice barely felt, the thoughts that kept bobbing up to the surface of her mind were beginning to revolve back to why she'd gone to the bar in the first place.

"Wait."

"Huh?" Peter looked back over his shoulder.

"Stop." Alice sounded a little louder this time.

"Alright." Peter turned to look at her, slowly letting go of Alice's hand. "What's wrong?" He frowned slightly, as if he was trying to read her mind.

"I'm sorry, but I can't," Alice said, feeling small.

Not understanding what she was saying for a moment, Peter opened his mouth to ask. But before the question came out, it seemed to click in his mind what she meant. "Oh," he sounded defeated. "Did you change your mind about going home with me?

Looking down at the ground, Alice winced, waiting for him to start cussing her out for leading him on.

He sighed deeply. "Sorry to hear that. We could've had some real fun together."

She nodded, still looking down at the ground.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit disappointed. "Well, at least let me walk you back to wherever you're staying."

Alice's eyes snapped up to him, a bit wary now. "No it's fine. My hotel is just one more block away."

"Oh are you staying at the Yuzak Motel? I basically lived there while I was trying to find a more permanent residence."

"Um yeah, but it's okay. I don't want you to have to go out of your way."

"Please. I insist."

With a sigh, Alice waved her hand. "Are you sure? Because I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm really sorry but I just _can't._ "

Peter chuckled slightly, perhaps a bit disappointed. "Still. You shouldn't be walking around here alone at night. Even in a town like this. So please." Peter held his hand out towards the motel and the two walked side by side, not touching. Now that Peter had nothing to look forward to, Alice noticed he had slowed his speed so they were walking at a pace set by her.

"Really. I am sorry about leading you on like that and then changing my mind a block from your house. You must think I'm—" Alice felt herself beginning to ramble.

Stopping, Peter stepped in front of Alice and placed his hands on her shoulder, stopping her from pitching forward. Leaning down so he could look at her face, he gently raised her chin with one finger, the move surprisingly tender. "I don't think any which way about you that isn't good. Now you don't need to apologize for changing your mind. _Never_ apologize for saying no."

A little breathless, Alice felt a bubble around her burst as Peter took a step back, shattering the glass bowl they were in. "Now, what room are you in?" Peter asked, directing his attention back to the motel.

Feeling a strange mixture of relief, guilt, and maybe even disappointment, Alice and Peter found their way to the room she and Dean were staying in. Reaching for the key inside her jacket pocket, Alice fumbled to get it into the lock. "Really. Thank you so much. But you can go now." She turned and continued to struggle with the lock.

"No. Allow me." Peter gently moved her aside and got the key in the lock, and turned the knob for her.

"Really, you should go. For your own good." As Alice said that, the door swung open, and from the inside of the room, Dean was up on his feet, gun halfway hidden behind his back.

A few different emotions flickered across Dean's face, and even drunk, Alice watched as his eyes slowly moved to her hands that were wrapped around Peter's arms, in a poor attempt to pull him away from the door.

Every thought had left Dean's mind, and like he was fighting a monster, there was only one goal in mind: kill.

Rushing forward, he tackled the monster that looked like a man, and the two went sprawling across the asphalt of the motel parking lot. And Dean quickly gained power over the man, and pinned him to the ground, hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

A bit dazed, Peter blinked a few times, as if he didn't believe this was happening to him. "What the—"

"Dean! Dean, let him go!" Clumsily, Alice was reaching for the sleeve of Dean's shirt, trying to pull him off Peter.

"What the hell is going on here?" Dean demanded, reluctantly letting Alice pull him up from the man.

Scrambling up from the ground, Peter stumbled a few steps back from Dean. Eyes fearful, he held up a hand as if to tell them he was no threat. "I was just walking her back to her room. Look man, if I knew she had a boyfriend I never would've left with her."

Before Dean could react with anger, Alice was between the two. She knew Dean's gun was tucked away, but still within reaching distance. Woozily, she tripped forward and shoved Peter in the chest. "I told you to leave. So _leave."_ She shoved him towards the dark where they came from.

She knew if Peter stayed, Dean would have killed him.

The sound of Peter's footsteps slowly growing softer mingled with Dean and Alice's heavy breathing. They both stared at the darkness where the man had disappeared, watching in silence.

When the sound of footsteps finally faded, Alice felt the wall of anger and guilt hit her again. With a heavy sigh, she hung her head in dejection and glanced towards the bright light streaming out of the motel room.

He had been waiting up for her.

He had cared that she had left. He had given her space, but he'd been waiting up for her.

And she'd come back to the room with another man.

Brushing a piece of straggly hair out of her face, Alice stared at her hand out of the corner of her eye. It was the hand that had been wrapped around Peter's arm, the one that trailed up and down his thigh.

She could still taste the alcohol on her own breath, and remember what it had been like on Peter's mouth.

"Dean…"

Dean held up a hand and slowly turned to look at her. "Let's just get some sleep. Alright?"

To her surprise, his voice was gentle, a bit tired. Completely different from the anger he had launched at Peter; it seemed to have dissipated. When Dean finally made eye contact with her, he seemed more forlorn than accusing.

Carefully, he placed a hand on her lower back. "You should get some sleep."

"Right," she agreed quietly,

With downcast eyes, Alice allowed herself to be ushered into the room. Once Dean shut and locked the door, he went to his bag and pulled out a large _ACDC_ shirt from the top. "Here. I figure if you were gonna throw up it's better if you did it on this old thing."

At a loss for words, Alice took the shirt from him, making sure to not brush his hand with hers.

Once alone in the bathroom, Alice took a fast shower and brushed her teeth, the feeling of drunkenness sapping out of her body. The tiredness caused by alcohol was now being replaced by the feeling of tiredness present in her bones.

Coming back into the room, she found Dean with his back to her, the lamp between the two beds on. A full glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen were on the nightstand, near her bed. A small, tin garbage can was sitting beside the bed as well.

Really wanting to cry now, Alice took a few pills and sipped some water. Then, she climbed into the bed, where the sheets had been pulled back.

Lastly, she reached over and flicked off the light, plunging the room into a heavy darkness.

* * *

When Alice awoke the next morning, she didn't open her eyes right away. Although she was prepared for a hangover, she was not prepared for facing her own shame and Dean's disappointment.

She remained prone for several minutes until eventually her breathing was so sporadic that her body could not physically stay still any longer.

As her feet hit the ground and the blood rushed out of her head, she was surprised by the lack of wooziness that usually accompanied after a night of drinking. Actually, she felt pretty good, considering. Perhaps the mixture of water and ibuprofen had helped. But it could not fix her storm of emotions.

Gaining her bearings, Alice stood slowly and scanned the room. At the desk in the corner, Dean was staring intently at the laptop, seemingly unaware of her waking.

"Dean."

Pulled by the low voice, Dean glanced over to the bed. He gave her a careful, neutral look, like he didn't quite know what to make of her.

"Dean," Alice said again. She crossed the room, hands reaching for him. She noticed he was wearing a dress shirt, tie, and navy suit pants. "Dean. I'm sorry."

Carefully, Dean closed the lap top and pushed the chair back. Alice's hands had reached for his and he gently removed his own from her shaking grip. "How are you feeling?"

 _"_ _Terrible._ I—"

"Does your head hurt? Do you feel dehydrated?" Dean cut her off. He sounded gentle in his words, but his appearance indicated otherwise. Refusing to hold hands with her or even look her in the eyes, it was apparent Dean was trying to be accommodating to Alice's mistake, but was still betrayed by her act.

Lip quivering, Alice's hands fell limply to her sides. Clenching and unclenching her jaw, she found herself nodding. "Yeah. I'm fine. No headache. I don't really even feel hungover. That water and medication you left out for me last night really helped. Uh…thank you for that." She clamped her mouth shut immediately after that and tried to recompose herself so she wasn't such a blithering, blubbering mess anymore.

Dean nodded, staring at the floor. "Good. You should get dressed. We have to hit the police station, coroner's office, and talk to all the witnesses today. Got a lot of ground to cover." He turned and grabbed his suit coat draped over the back of the chair. "I'm gonna get us some coffee."

And just like that, he left her again.

Thoroughly humiliated, Alice quickly and meekly got dressed in the gray pantsuit combination and black pumps. She pulled her hair back in a low, sleek bun and felt herself shaking while she shoved pins into her head to hold the hair in place.

It was strange to watch the hazy memories from last night with a clear mind now. Maybe at the time, Alice had a right to be mad at Dean. After all, he hadn't been treating her very fairly since they had left Bobby's. However, she had reacted like a child. She'd stormed out of a fight and got trashed at a bar. Then, she comes back to the room where he was with another man. Although at that point, there was no intention for the two of them to have sex, it didn't matter. It had been unfair to Dean and now—like he always did—he was all work and had locked down in feelings. She knew she wouldn't be able to get anything out of him until the hunt was over.

Trying to bring up what happened last night would only distract Dean and throw him off his game. Alice knew that his way to stay focused was to adopt a tunnel vision and ignore all other problems except for the hunt.

So, that's what she would do too.

Taking a deep breath, Alice forced one last pin in her head and smoothed down her hair one last time.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she arranged her features into a cold, apathetic glower.

It wasn't time for her to grovel on her knees.

It was time to work.

* * *

In Bobby's front room, Sam was on the couch, leaned over his laptop, furiously typing away. The neat collection of paper's he had organized were now exploded over the coffee table. For hours, Sam had been paging through atlases, weather charts, and newspaper clippings, attempting to gain _any_ lead on the yellow eyed demon, even if it meant going without Dean.

He had woken up early in the morning, shouting and breathing so loudly, Bobby had ran into the room with a pumped shotgun. Quickly realizing it was just a nightmare, and that the kids were right behind him, Bobby had kicked the shotgun under the bed. After explaining what had happened, Cara and Noah rubbed their tired eyes and went back to bed. However, Bobby stayed behind and tried to interrogate Sam about what was wrong. Insisting it was nothing, Sam said he was up for the day anyways.

Since then, Sam had been camped out in the front room. He would've used the study, but as a precaution, he picked on out of the way of the traffic. The location served the dual purpose of keeping Cara and Noah unaware of what he was doing, but also to get some work done.

But _God._

The dream.

Never had he ever woken up viscerally screaming from a nightmare, but this one had been the worst.

It was about Jess again. But this time, right before she was about to burn, Jess threw herself down from the ceiling and landed in front of Sam, blinking with glowing yellow eyes. With a chilling smile that _his_ Jess never would have made, the possessed, dream-twisted Jess raised her hand as the fire converged and flung straight into Sam's vision.

That was when the entire Singer house was woken up by the screaming.

He didn't want to have to think about that damn demon anymore, but it was hard not to when the bastard and Jess appeared every night in his head.

Currently, it was nine in the morning and Sam had been parked on that couch for five hours. He'd gone through two pots of coffee and was itching for another cup.

Stretching out his muscles from the position they had been in, Sam sighed and yawned. As he was twisting his body to relieve some tension from the muscles in his back, he caught movement outside the front window. Then, it was followed by a slam.

Tensing, Sam slunk towards the window and moved aside the heavy curtain, but the angle of the window obscured whatever the movement was.

At the front door, Sam contemplated yelling for Bobby or the kids. As far as he knew, the kids were far back in the salvage yard, helping Bobby pick out a car to rebuild.

As he was contemplating what to do, there was a heavy thud on the other side of the door. Grabbing his gun from his pants, Sam wasted no time to pull the door open, ready to point the gun at whoever was there.

But when Sam pulled the door open, he nearly dropped the gun.

On the other side of the door stood someone Sam had been trying to find for months.

John Winchester.

* * *

"So…we're looking at a vengeful spirit?" Alice asked as they climbed into the Impala. They had just talked to their last witness and everything seemed particularly cut and dry.

A man, Kellen Decker, had gotten in a car accident, after finding out his wife wanted to leave him. His car had collided with another car and killed a woman and her three children. Several people close to Kellen had died, and Dean and Alice had been able to piece together that he was a recovering alcoholic, recently relapsed. According to several sources, Kellen was a mean drunk, and his wife Helena had finally had enough. The toxicology reports from the coroner's office indicated his BAC level was nearly three times the legal limit after he was pulled out of the car accident.

"Seems so. But his body is still in the coroner's office. And we don't have time to wait until after the funeral to do this," Dean said.

Eyebrows raising at the insinuation, Alice glanced at his side profile. He'd been avoiding eye contact with her. Their act of distant, professional partners wasn't much of a charade at this point. Dean hadn't said anything to her that wasn't related to the case. Alice had learned to only ask questions pertaining to it. "So what are we supposed to do then? Torch the body in the morgue? That's a little conspicuous."

Dean shrugged. "We already know who it is. Look, Helena's friend that ratted Kellen out that he was drinking was the first to die. And then Helena's mother who hated Kellen, and now _two_ of their neighbors who were known to spread gossip about the Deckers. Kellen is picking people off one by one, and it isn't gonna be long before Helena is dead just like her husband."

"Then why not just kill Helena first and leave everyone else alone? It's obvious his problem was with her."

Dean began explaining with his eyes focused on the road. "Because Kellen was an irrationally angry man. You heard from everyone we talked to that Helena was his prize that he liked to control. He saw all those victims as people who were trying to turn her against him."

"If he was so controlling and irrational, then why would he suddenly become so calculating in death? It sounded like this man couldn't see three seconds ahead of him. I can't believe he'd have the patience and take the time to kill all of these people? " Although Alice had never been on a case before—besides inadvertently on the Roy LeGrange one—she had a strange feeling in her gut about the whole thing.

"Death does things to people. Vengeful spirits aren't always like the people they were when they were alive. This is our guy, Alice. And we need to stop if before he kills Helena or the cops start suspecting Helena of something fishy."

After talking to Decker's widow, they had find out Helena was worried about what the cops thought. She said they had been dropping by lately and asking her questions of an accusatory nature. Although there was zero proof she had been involved in the strange deaths, she said she felt like the cops were closing in on her because of the alarming number of people close to her that had died.

Relenting, Alice pushed down the feeling in stomach. He was right. She didn't have any experience and he knew what he was doing. Although she had been appearing okay, her heart was still panging with guilt from last night. It made her perceptions blue tinted, throwing off her judgement.

"Okay," she agreed.

Dean nodded once. "Good. Then we'll do this tonight."

* * *

Sam felt the gun dropping from his hand. _"Dad?"_

Looking just as surprised to see his son, John felt himself taking a step back from the door. "Sam? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sam snapped back.

"I'm here to see Bobby."

The familiar feeling of helpless rage from his childhood was bubbling up in Sam. He'd felt bouts of it when they were close to finding John or when they called and he wouldn't answer. "You're here to see _Bobby?_ What about your sons?" He spat back. Sam knew Bobby hadn't been the biggest fan of John in a long, _long_ time.

Craning his head to the side, John appeared to be looking for something. "The Impala's gone. Where's your brother?"

"On a hunt," Sam responded snidely. He held the front door tightly in one hand, blocking the rest of the doorway, very strongly indicating he did not want John to come into the house right now.

The older man's eyebrows raised in surprise at that. "He's on a hunt without you?"

"Yeah."

Reaching a stalemate, the two had a stare down for a moment before John finally sighed. "Sammy, I heard about your girlfriend. I'm so sorry, son."

Wanting to yell at him for where he'd been for the last few months, Sam didn't get the chance before John did something unexpected.

The father reached forward and pulled his estranged son in to a hug.

With limp muscles, this is not how Sam thought his first encounter with his father would be after more than four years.

When John pulled away, Sam was surprised to find some of his anger dispelled. So, in a quieter voice, he took a breath and then spoke. "Where have you been?"

Actually looking a bit ashamed, John spotted the ground. "Hunting the demon."

"That's it? Dad, we've been calling you and trying to find you nonstop. Dean almost _died_ and you couldn't even pick up the phone?!" With each word, Sam's voice grew in volume, wrecking his father's flimsy excuse.

"Now wait just a minute, Samuel—"

"No! We've thought you were _dead_ and then missing for months. And instead we find out you've been avoiding us? You won't even pick up the phone but you'll give Bobby a house _visit?_ Yeah, like you and he are such good friends!"

"Listen, there are some things you don't understand—"

"Then _tell me!_ You have _no idea_ what abandoning your sons did to this family! Really great example you've set for your kids!" Sam had never made the connection, but perhaps Dean had subconsciously grown to believe leaving his kids was the best way to protect them.

 _Wonder where he learned that from,_ Sam thought bitterly.

Seemingly more confused than angry, John was frowning in consternation at Sam's words, trying to make sense of them. He knew there was some hidden meaning in them, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

Perhaps realizing he said too much, Sam clammed up. "Sorry, just forget it. Forget I said anything."

The ebbing and flowing tension was raising once again and Sam couldn't stand to stare at his father anymore. He couldn't. Not without saying something he knew he'd regret.

"You want to talk to Bobby?" Sam eventually asked.

John nodded.

"Okay. Well…I'll go get him…you wait here."

"Wait, Sam—"

Quickly, Sam shut the door in his father's face—much like he had when he left for Stanford—and stood there, stock still for a moment, thinking, _had that really just happened?_

And then, he remembered.

Cara and Noah.

Spinning on his heel towards the back door, Sam ran through the house, thinking about how John _could not know_ they were here. He didn't think he needed to protect them from John, but Sam couldn't think of a scenario in which he could shove two kids in front of John, tell them they were his grandkids, and that everything would be okay.

Even he had a hard time when he first found out, but he couldn't imagine how his father would react.

And besides, it wasn't his place to decide when the kids should get to meet their grandfather—if _ever._ That was Dean and Alice's decision, and they weren't here.

But perhaps, by proxy, Sam was the one making decisions for them currently, since Dean and Alice were in fact gone.

If that was the case, then Sam didn't want John to know about Cara and Noah.

Once he was out the back door, Sam was yelling for Bobby, in an urgent voice.

It didn't take long for the older man to come running around a pile of cars. With a crowbar wielded like a sword, Bobby glanced side to side for danger, ready to swing the weapon with deadly precision. But, upon seeing Sam alone on the back patio, he lowered the weapon and slowed to a walk, ready to chastise Sam.

"What the hell are you screeching about? You scared the shit outta me, boy."

"Where are Cara and Noah?" Sam asked, eyes darting side to side, trying to locate is niece and nephew.

Shifting the crowbar so it was resting on the ground, Bobby shrugged once. "Last I saw them, they were dragging around a tire and rope, saying they were gonna make a swing. I told 'em 'good luck', that the scrawny tree out front wasn't gonna do much—"

"Bobby, my dad's here."

"Come again?"

"My dad is here. He's standing on your front step right now."

Face darkening, Bobby hefted the heavy metal tool over his shoulder. "What the hell is that bastard doing at my front door?"

"I don't know. But Bobby, he doesn't know about Cara and Noah."

Not needing to say anything else, the two took off towards the front of the house.

* * *

"Why'd you have to pick the biggest tire?" Cara complained as the two were rolling the hulking piece of rubber through the property.

"Because it'll be more fun."

"Uh- _huh,"_ Cara huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of her face.

"Yeah. And I'm sure you're helping me out for fun. I know you wanna use it too."

"Whatever you say, Noah."

"Why are you so boring?"

"I am _not_ boring." Cara regarded him with a cool gaze. "You're just immature."

"Better than trying to act like a boring grown up."

"You know, I bet if you were less annoying, we'd've had the tire there five minutes ago."

"Well it's here now so…Cara, who's that?"

"What?"

Noah nudged her shoulder and pointed to a dark haired, mean looking man standing on the front step, peering into the window that was next to the front door.

"Umm…" Was all Cara could say before Noah walked past her, cautiously approaching the man.

"Excuse me?" Noah asked politely.

Startled, the man's head snapped around and his hands raised into fists, both defensively and menacingly.

Not liking it at all, Cara ran forward and clamped a hand on Noah's shoulder, ready to drag him backwards.

"Excuse me, sir?" Noah asked, this time a little more unsure. "Can we help you with something?"

Realizing there a no apparent threat, the kids watched as the man dropped his hands down, and had one of them shoved into his back pocket. "I'm looking for Bobby Singer. He around?"

Noah's thumb hitched over his shoulder. "Yeah he's just in the back—"

 _"_ _Noah!"_ Cara hissed, hitting him hard across the back of the head.

"Oww!" Noah whined to her.

"We're not supposed to talk to strangers!" Cara continued, trying to keep her voice at a whisper.

"I know Bobby Singer. I've known him for a long time," the man responded, still a bit put off by the sudden appearance of two kids.

"May I inquire your name?" Noah asked, retaining the respectful decorum he was always taught to have when talking to adults. In response, Cara shook his shoulder violently.

While Noah could apparently talk to strangers with ease, that was not a skill Cara had ever recovered. She had always been distrustful of those she didn't know, and it was especially apparent after the Hanratty brothers had tried to drown them.

Now looking a bit amused, but also irritated, the man nodded his head reluctantly. "John Winchester."

And suddenly, Cara's hand dropped from Noah's and she felt herself moving forward, Noah shocked into place for once.

 _"_ _You're_ John Winchester?" Cara asked.

"Yeah?" The man said, sounding a bit unsure.

"And you're Dad's—"

"—Sam and Dean's dad?" Noah quickly corrected, catching on to who this man was.

Now a bit suspicious, John narrowed his eyes at the two. "Who are you two?"

Cara was about to open her mouth, but Noah quickly smacked her across the back of the head, similar to what she had done to him.

Responding in irritation, Cara turned to glare at him, and Noah responded by shaking his head with wide eyes.

Now, Noah knew Cara found him to be an idiot, but she underestimated him. By him approaching the stranger cautiously and politely, he could possibly try to figure out what was going on. Unlike him, Cara would just clamp her mouth shut, and apparently not say anything, only to blurt out who she was as soon as a man coming around claiming to be their legendary grandfather showed up.

Now, although the man said he was John Winchester, Noah didn't have any way of knowing it.

But Cara, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. She had always been intrigued by the family she had never met. Evidently, she would do anything to meet them.

"Hey, you two!"

The children's heads snapped around when they saw Bobby and Sam approaching, looking quite frantic. Bobby dropped a tire iron to the ground and put on a smile when he saw the two of them. "I was wondering where you got off to."

Before either could respond, their Uncle Sam was there, each with a hand on one of their shoulders, ushering them back to the house. "Come on, guys. We're gonna go inside. Let Bobby and his friend talk."

"But that's—" Cara was pointing over her shoulder and at this point, Sam was practically dragging the two of them into the house. Once over the threshold, Sam slammed the door behind the three of them, only the old men left alone.

"What the hell are you doing here, John?" Bobby asked, not wasting any time.

Eyes darting away from the door, John focused his attention back on the other hunter. "Since when are you a babysitter?"

Bobby waved his hand. "Just some hunter's kids. He's out of town and had no one else to watch them."

John nodded, not believing him completely. "Who's their dad?"

"Ah, you wouldn't've heard of him."

Crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow, John was starting to believe this story less and less. "Really? Cause those kids seemed to sure the hell know who I was. As well as Dean and Sam."

Bristling a bit, Bobby asserted himself a bit more. "Look here, I don't need you showing up unannounced to my house and grilling me for answers about things that aren't your business. Now, I'll ask one more time: what the hell are you doing here?"

Moving away from the topic, John sobered up a bit. "I was wondering if you had any leads on the demon."

"You know I don't. And while we're on the subject, why the hell don't you answer your boys when they call you? You have no idea how worried they've been!"

"Speaking of things that aren't your business, they don't need to be involved in this. It's better if they weren't."

"That's not your decision to make anymore, John. Those boys have grown into capable young men who had been hunting just fine without you for the better part of a year. I thought you'd know by now, pushing away your kids isn't doing them any favors. You may think putting distance between yourself and them is the way to protect them, but it's not."

"What would you know about that?" John scoffed.

"More than you'd think," Bobby responded mysteriously.

"Well fucking great. Thanks for the advice. Now, where's Dean? Sam said he was on a hunt by himself?"

"Yeah, up in the lesser of the two Dakotas. Sam needed a break, I suppose."

"And what? He's friends with the Bobbsey Twins now?"

Bobby shrugged. "What can I say? He has a way with kids."

"Right."

There was a beat of silence. "Am I allowed to come into your house or am I supposed to hit the road?"

Bobby sighed for a moment and thought. "I guess you can come in. But behave yourself. And don't break anything," he said like he was talking to a petulant child.

Reluctantly, Bobby allowed John into the house, who the whole time, was muttering under his breath.

* * *

"That's our grandfather. Uncle Sam, _that's_ out grandpa!" Cara said for the tenth time in three minutes.

"You said that already," Noah pointed out, feeling a bit numb.

Pacing in front of the closed bedroom door, Sam was trying to figure out what to do, as Cara and Noah sat on the bed, watching him agitatedly move back and forth.

"Uncle Sam—"

Stopping, Sam dropped down do his knees so he was level with the kids. "Look, Cara, I know you're excited to meet your grandfather, but you two know he doesn't know who you two are, okay? So I need you two to listen to me when I say you can't just go down there and tell him who you are?"

Cara frowned. "Why not? Why wouldn't he be excited to meet us?"

"Because, he just might not be, Care," Noah answered tiredly. He'd heard whispers of what his grandfather was like, and how the man could be. _He_ didn't even know if he wanted to even meet the man.

"Your mom and dad had their reasons for not telling Grandpa John about you two," Sam responded.

"Call them, then."

"What?"

"Can you please call them, Uncle Sam? I want to ask them if I can meet Grandpa John."

Closing his eyes, Sam slowly stood up. He really should call them anyways, just to let them know that John was there. Dean would want to know.

"Fine. But I'm going to talk to them first. And you guys stay here. Okay?"

They nodded as Sam stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

He pulled out his phone to call Dean, who answered promptly.

"How's it going, Sammy? Those two behaving themselves?" Dean's voice was garbled, like he was eating something.

"No they're great. But uh, listen. Dad's here."

"What?"

"Dad's here. He showed up out of the blue."

Dean cursed and there was a sound of a fork clattering to the plate, the sound of Alice asking _"what?"_ very faintly in the background.

"That bastard," Dean hissed. Still, Sam knew his brother was mostly relieved to hear their father was alive.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Cara wants to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Lemme just put her on the line. Okay?"

Not hearing what Dean said next, Sam opened the door and passed the phone to his niece. She grabbed it and pressed it to her ear.

"Tell him what you wanted to say," Sam encouraged, not really sure what else to do at that point.

"Dad?" Cara found herself asking.

"Yeah, Care. What's up?"

"How's the hunting?

"Not too good. We haven't seen a single deer yet."

"Oh," she said, voice sounding far away. Dean could tell something was bothering her.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Grandpa John is here."

"I know. Uncle Sam told me."

"Can I meet him? I know you never wanted us to but, he's here. And I wanna meet him."

Dean sighed deeply. "Honey…let me talk to Mom. I'll call you back, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

The line went dead.

* * *

"Your dad is there?" Alice asked. She had her arms crossed and was hunched forward at the motel room table. It was the first time Dean had said anything relating to the case, but it hadn't been what she thought she would've heard.

"Yeah. Apparently he hasn't dropped off the face of the earth. That son of a bitch. We've been looking for him for months—"

"What did Cara want?" Alice asked, steering the conversation back to their daughter.

Dean paused. "She said she wanted to meet him."

Alice was silent for a moment. "And what if she did meet him? What would happen?"

He shrugged. "I honestly don't know how he'd react."

Scrubbing both hands over her face, Alice thought. Cara was always asking questions about her grandparents—both sets—and Alice knew the girl was curious to meet them. _Any_ of them.

"I trust Sam and Bobby. Do you?" Alice asked.

"Of course I do," Dean responded, tone suggesting what a ridiculous question that was.

"Well…your dad is already there. And so are they. Look, I don't know the man. It's your father Dean, and your call. If you think Sam and Bobby can handle the situation and keep everything under control, then I don't see why not. I think both Cara and Noah would want to meet one of their grandparents."

Dean contemplated that for several moments before sighing. "Okay. I'll call Sam. Let him know it's okay."

Alice nodded in approval, leaning back in her chair.

Dean was in disbelief as he dialed the familiar number into his phone.

John Winchester was going to meet Cara and Noah.

* * *

Cara and Noah were going to meet John Winchester.

Sam had just gotten off the phone and was a bit surprised to find out both Alice and Dean had agreed to let John meet the kids.

And still, Sam wasn't too sure about it.

It was with reluctance that the uncle led his eager niece and hesitant nephew down the stairs, to the salvage yard. Bobby and John were standing back there, Bobby hopefully talking in a way that wouldn't raise John's blood pressure.

When they finally made it to the back where the old men were shooting the shit, John turned when he saw Sam and the two kids emerge from the house.

"Dad."

"Sam." John still wasn't quite sure why Dean had left Sam behind to go on a hunt. Both he and Bobby had been dancing around the real reason why.

"Dad," Sam began again. "There's some people that want to meet you."

With a raised eyebrow, John watched as the two kids shyly approached him.

"This is Cara and Noah Mercer," Sam continued, indicating to each kid when he said their names.

Feeling himself smiling a bit at how innocent the two kids were, John dropped down to his knees so he was their height. "Cara and Noah huh? These guys here said your dad was on a _hunt?"_ Before they had come out, Bobby explained to John how Cara and Noah thought of hunting in the sense of big game, not ghosts and ghouls. In his opinion, John didn't think their father was doing them any favors by keeping them in the dark about the supernatural. Kids would be better off if they knew the truth. But he'd play along. They weren't his kids, after all.

Both nodded shyly, not saying anything. It puzzled John. They obviously wanted to meet him, but seemed to have no motivation to actually say anything to him.

"Dad? There's something about you two that you need to know," Sam said carefully, walking closer to John so that he was between his father and the kids. He motioned his father to follow him so they were out of ear shot of the kids.

Reluctantly following, John watched over his shoulder as Bobby bent down to talk to the kids. Neither Bobby or Sam thought John would react violently, but there was a chance he could react a bit angrily, enough to scare two innocent kids that just wanted to meet their grandfather.

"You remember all those solo hunts Dean used to go on?" Sam asked once they were far enough away.

John snorted. "You mean still does?"

Sam nodded, distracted. "Right. But you should know that he didn't actually go on hunts all of those times."

John frowned, starting to not like where this was going. "Really. What was he doing, then?"

Chewing on his lip, Sam took his time to answer the question. He didn't think he'd have to be the one to tell their father about Dean's life-altering secret.

"He was visiting a girl."

"A girl. Just _one_ girl?" John sounded incredulous.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. The very same one. Since he went on his first solo trip."

That made John frown and think. The first hunt Dean had gone on was when he was only seventeen. "So…Dean's been visiting some teenage girl he was infatuated with?"

"He met her when we stayed in Broken Bow, Nebraska. I think at the end of ninety-four."

John shrugged, not quite remembering it. They'd stayed in Nebraska a handful of times, but there hadn't been any eventful hunts there. "Dean's been going back to this same farmer girl for over a decade?" Although John never talked to Dean about the girls he saw, the older man wasn't an idiot. He knew his son wasn't unfamiliar with women. So, it was a bit jarring to hear Dean had been visiting the same girl for years.

And if that was the case…

"Is he seeing this _girl_ right now instead of actually hunting?" John asked.

Sam seemed markedly uncomfortable and on edge as he tried to explain. John's voice was teetering on the edge, and Sam was pretty sure his father was going to lose it soon. "Not exactly. See, the girl is on the hunt with him."

"Is she a hunter?"

"No. Her aunt is. But she knows about the supernatural."

"What's the aunt's name?"

"Janet Sutton?"

"Sutton?"

"She was married to a man named Don. Also a hunter. Died a couple years ago. On the job, I think."

Seeming to nod in approval, John scratched his chin. "Don Sutton? I worked a hunt with him once. Way way back. From what I saw of him for a few days, he was a decent man. So what about this girl makes her so special?"

Wringing his hands out, Sam looked down at the ground. He didn't know how Dean and Alice classified themselves. He knew they weren't a couple because it was very apparent they weren't based on the way Dean acted when the brothers were away on a hunt. "She's smart and kind. Selfless. Not someone I would've thought Dean would go for. Honestly, I think she's too good for him." And the same could've been said for Jess to Sam, or to Mary for John.

Feeling the never-far-away pang of longing, John's vision flashed orange for a moment as he remembered Mary. But always, she was burning on the ceiling, looking down in agony, her eyes saying "save me, why can't you save me?"

Giving a small, but sharp gasp, John composed himself quickly and nodded, saying he accepted Sam's response as an acceptable answer. "And he kept this girl a secret for this long?"

Sensing John's voice moving towards the edge again, Sam attempted to placate him. "Look, Dad, even I didn't know about Alice until Dean came to get me at school. When he said _you_ were missing."

"I didn't ask for him to look for me, Samuel. _Either_ of you."

"All you had to do was pick up a phone, _Dad._ Just _once_ all you have to do was answer _once!"_

"I don't see why you'd care, Sam, you haven't talked to us in over four years—"

"That's not fair! You were the one who told me to stay gone. You were the one—"

"That's enough, you two!" Bobby was suddenly between the two, shoving each of them in the shoulders. "You two want to bicker like children? That's fine! But do it on your own time!" Bobby pointed to Cara and Noah, who looked stunned, several yards away. "Samuel, you made a promise to those two, and you better finish it before bitching about your own drama. And _you,"_ Bobby warned, pointing to John.

"He's the one who started it!" John said, sounding quite like a spoiled child.

"I don't care, Johnny-boy. You're his father, so act like it. And I'm telling you right now if you don't keep your lid on for what your son here is about to tell you, I will send you packing with a round of buckshot in your ass. Do you understand me?"

Chastised, both men nodded.

Satisfied with the silence, Bobby waved his arm towards Cara and Noah. "Alright, Sam, let's get this show on the road. Tell your father what you need to say. Cause at the rate you're going, those kids are gonna have gray hair by the time their grandfather knows."

The air pressure suddenly dropped as everyone had the wind knocked out of their lungs. The only sounds for a good minute were birds chirping in the distant trees, and the wind blowing.

Bobby was the first to speak, realizing his mistake. "Ah well. He was gonna find out eventually. Just moving this along." With a sheepish smile on his face, Bobby turned and started walking back to the silent kids. _"Balls,"_ he muttered to himself, as he saw their frozen, innocent faces.

Even though the cat was out of the bag, Sam didn't feel the burden lifted from his shoulders. In fact, it felt heavier. "Dad…" He didn't know where to go from that.

John finally spoke. "Sam, _explain."_ Like a calm before the storm, John's voice was dark and foreboding, carefully measured, but poorly restrained, like he was about to lose his temper.

Realizing there was no more dodging the question, Sam sighed and held out a hand to Cara and Noah, indicating them to come closer.

With hands on each of their shoulders, Bobby gently steered them towards their uncle and grandfather. But both kids suddenly looked like they wanted to run and hide.

"I told you before, this is Cara and Noah Mercer. And I told you, Dean would always go to visit a girl, and that she was on a hunt with him right now. Her name is Alice Mercer and these are her kids."

Everything was becoming clearer in John's mind as the pieces were beginning to interlock. Still, he wasn't satisfied with Sam's evasive answers. "Say it Sam. I wanna hear you say it."

If Sam said what John wanted him to, then everything would be revealed. He didn't know if that meant it would all come crashing down, but as if a wall had come over his mouth, it seemed as though Sam had suddenly lost the ability to speak.

It seemed to Noah that time was moving half as fast as it was before. Even Cara, who had been so excited to meet John, now seemed frozen. He knew she folded when things got stressful and that appeared to be what was happening right now.

Because he was the youngest, Noah always felt like other people were his mouthpiece. But he didn't always need someone to speak for him. Yeah, maybe he didn't always have much to say that actually was important, but for once, he could have a hand in something bigger than sports or school.

"I'm his son," Noah's solid voice shattered everyone's carefully constructed cocoons. As they all emerged like a body from a grave, he continued. "Dean Winchester is my dad. Our dad." He indicated to Cara. "Alice Mercer is our mom. And you're our grandfather."

But he wasn't finished yet.

"Cara—my sister, Dean's daughter, your granddaughter—has wanted to meet you for a long time. She's been talking about it and asking about you nonstop. It was kind of annoying, honestly.

"But Mom and Dad always said you didn't know about us. They always said they never got around to telling you about us. But, as we got older, we started to learn that there was a reason we never met you. Mom's parents never wanted anything to do with us. They said we were unclean _, unholy."_

Cara looked over at Noah. "Where did you hear that?"

"It doesn't matter." He waved her off. As usual, any real information the two ever gathered about their grandparents was via eavesdropping. In that case, he'd heard Alice condescendingly use the term to Dean when she was mocking her parents' reactions.

"I don't know if you'd think the same way about us, or something different, but still bad. But it that's the case, it's not fair, because, we've never done anything to them. We're just kids.

"So…you can do whatever you're gonna do, but before that…" Noah trailed off and moved forward. Reaching John, he wrapped his arms around the man's middle, pulling him into a hug.

Once he pulled away, Noah looked up at him. "It's nice to meet you."

Absolutely blown away by the little boy in front of him, John stared in shock. The little boy— Noah, he supposed he should call him—had moppy dark hair, almost black. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he had bright blue eyes.

And the next words out of John's mouth, he didn't even have control of.

"Your grandmother had the same eyes as you."

Encouraged by the response to Noah, Cara carefully began inching forward, shyly toeing one foot in front of the other, until she stood bashfully before the older man.

"Hi," she said in a quiet, squeaky voice, wishing she didn't sound so scared.

"Hi," John repeated. John didn't exactly know how to handle little girls. All he ever dealt with were boys. But, he knew Mary had always wanted one.

Showing a bit of bravery, Cara held out her arms, waiting for a hug. Carefully, John wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to break the thing. She seemed like she could crumple like a leaf if someone hugged her too hard.

When the two pulled away, John straightened up and found himself staring at the two of them. The more he looked at them, the more he saw Dean and Mary in them. He didn't know what their mother looked like, but right then, he was damn curious to meet Alice Mercer.

"H—how old are they?" John asked, turning to look at his son, who seemed to be pleased, but surprised by the interaction.

"Nine and ten," Sam said, pointing to each of them.

"So…" Trying to wrap his head around the age, John found himself doing the math. "Dean was _how old_ when they were born?"

"Uh…sixteen when she was born. And I guess seventeen for Noah." Feeling uncomfortable doing the math, Sam watched as the shock of having grandchildren was wearing off, and John was starting to realize the circumstances of the situation.

"He was a _teenager_ and he decided to have kids? _Two_ of them?"

"That's something you should talk to Dean about. And maybe not in front of them," Sam hissed, indicating Cara and Noah.

Looking back over his shoulder, John almost did a double take, as if seeing the kids for the first time. Seeing them in clarity, John felt his head begin to spin. Those two kids were Dean's _children._ His _grandchildren._ Sure, there was a part of him that wondered if it would ever happen, but not out of the blue. And certainly not two kids who had already been alive for a decade.

Like before, John started to notice similarities to Mary in the kids. He decided it wasn't fair that she was the one gone to see it. There were so many times and instances he tried to trade places with her, but nothing had ever worked. And now, here was life—new life—going on without her. Although it had been more than twenty years, he still often felt like time had stopped and the world hadn't spun for two decades.

"I need a drink," John suddenly said. Head down, he broke the circle and quickly paced to his truck. Hopping in, he slammed the door shut, roughly started the ignition, and haphazardly spun down the road, leaving everyone else in the settling dust.

* * *

Alice watched with misty eyes as Dean dropped the security tapes into a metal trash can. They plunked to the bottom pathetically. After pouring some kerosene over the tapes, Dean ceremoniously dropped a match into the can, and a giant flame shot up.

Shielding their eyes, the two took a step back and watched the fire eat away the video evidence.

After doing some investigating, Dean determined the Devil's Lake morgue had no security guard at night and no alarm system. The surveillance system was dated and shot on video tapes. So, it wasn't hard to break into the morgue, burn Kellen Declan's body in his metal cubby and snatch the tapes.

The entire time, Alice had watched passively, on edge at what they were doing. For godsakes, they _burned_ a man who's family was waiting to bury him, and who's wife's life was now fractured because her husband was not only dead, but the ghost of him had come back and killed everyone that was close to her.

"That poor woman," Alice intoned quietly.

"Huh?" Dean asked, barely hearing her over the crackle of the fire.

"Helena Declan. Her life is in pieces."

"But at least she has a life," Dean responded. He glanced around the deserted forest preserve parking lot.

The two stood on either side of the trashcan in silence. They didn't talk about Dean giving her the cold shoulder, Peter, their children meeting John, or even the fact they had just burned a dead body, not even in the ground yet.

The two stayed until the fire died and they made sure there were only ashes left in the trashcan.

Finally, in the darkness, Dean made a move to leave. "Let's go. We should get some sleep. Gotta get up early to drive tomorrow."

Robotically, Alice turned and went to follow him.

And then, in the darkness, behind their retreating figures, there was a metallic clang.

In one movement, Dean was turned around, gun held at the ready. A bit delayed, Alice had initially jumped at the sound, fumbling for the flashlight in her pocket.

Her first instinct was not to go for the gun in her jacket.

Shakily scanning her flashlight across the landscape, she stopped the beam of light on the knocked over trashcan, the ashes scattering out. "Maybe it was just an animal?"

But the words died on her lips when she continued the beam of light, which found a lone figure, unmoving.

"Dean," Alice croaked, losing her voice.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded with a growl.

The lone figure continued to stare. It was a woman with shoulder length icy blonde hair. She wore a short sleeved paisley button up, stylish flare jeans, and leather high heeled boots.

There was a chilling smile on her face.

"I said who are you?" Dean demanded again, with more urgency in his voice. He cocked the gun.

Eyes widening, Alice realized why the woman looked familiar. It's because Alice had seen her before. Seen the woman's obituary picture.

The woman before them was one of the people killed by Kellen Declan's drunken road rampage.

"Dean, that's Amy Kincaida," Alice whispered in his ear.

Amy nodded to Alice. "That's right." She turned to Dean. "You burned the wrong body, bozo," the woman informed with a taunting, sharp voice.

Shocked by the turn of events, Dean sputtered for a moment.

"I don't like it when things are pointed at me." With a flick of her wrist, Amy sent Dean's gun flying into the darkness. "That's better. Now we can talk."

"Talk about what?" Alice stammered.

Rolling her eyes, Amy slowly began to walk forward. With arms behind her back, her boots clicked across the gravel.

"What are you?" Dean demanded. He felt himself moving closer to Alice. Grabbing her by the wrist, he steered her so she was partially hidden behind him, away from Amy, and whatever the hell she is.

"Um… _dead?"_ Amy responded with a smart ass voice. "I know I am. I was driving, singing along to music with my kids. Next thing I know, I'm standing on the side of the road, watching as my body and my kids' bloody bodies are pulled out of our car."

"No but _what_ are you?" Dean asked again. Based on her appearance, she was no normal ghost he had ever seen. Completely corporeal, he would've assumed she was just a regular person if he hadn't known any better. Put off by his fervent questions, Alice was beginning to realize something was different about Amy.

"Apparently a ghost, according to you. A hunter, huh? I've been following you guys around for a while. Didn't know monsters were real."

"They are. And I'm looking at one, right now."

"Ouch, Dean," Amy said, as if they were good friends joking around with one another. She sobered after a moment. "But _why_ am I a monster? Because I died? No. Kellen Declan is the monster."

"Amy, I'm so sorry what he did to you and your kids—"

"Oh don't be, Alice. I've been getting my just deserts."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, keeping their backs away from her as Amy continued to circle them.

"After I ended up watching my kid's bodies be zipped up into these body bags, I saw a man staring at me from the other side of the road. He looked like a mess. Unshaven, stained shirt. I put it together when I watched him get pulled out of the car that t-boned mine.

"Kellen Declan, I quickly learned, was a drunk who like to abuse his wife and terrorize those close to him."

They were _both_ ghosts? Dean quickly gulped. They had only gotten one of them so far. There was still another.

Expression darkening, Amy looked down at the ground. "His biggest mistake though, was getting behind the wheel of the car that day.

"Because of what he did, I made it may after death business to make sure he got what was coming to him."

"By making him kill those close to him?" Alice asked. She was trying to piece together everything that was happening.

Amy laughed. "You know, it's amazing what death can do to a person, or spirit I guess. See, Kellen in death, wasn't so tough. He was actually quite apologetic, kind of pathetic. I guess the alcohol really messed him up."

"And what about you?" Dean asked.

Grinning widely, Amy was trying to hold back a laugh. "I was a soft-spoken kindergarten teacher. I went to church every Sunday. I was a good wife and an even better mother."

The smile dropped off her face and she was no longer laughing. "I've never considered myself an angry person but…being dead just brought out a whole new side of me." Turning her head towards the trash can, she slowly moved her hand forward. In response the can scraped across the gravel until it was beside her.

"You know, when you can temper rage like a piece of metal, it's amazing the things you can do." Crushing her hand into a fist, Dean and Alice watched in horror and fascination as the metal can began to crunch like tin foil.

"How can you do that?" Dean was pulling Alice further behind him.

"What do you mean?" Amy asked. Relaxing her fist, the crumpled metal fell to the ground.

"I've never met a vengeful spirit that young and _that_ powerful." And let alone one aware they were actually dead.

She shrugged. "Well, like you said, I'm _that_ vengeful."

"Were you the one that killed all those people?" Alice asked.

As if pondering for the question a moment, Amy proceeded to answer. "Kellen." She thought for a moment. "I mean, I made him do it, but he was the one that actually did."

"Why?"

Amy rolled her eyes. Using her kindergarten teacher voice, she began to explain. "Abby, age five. Emily, age two. Joseph, eight months." Amy's voice cracked on the last two words.

"Your kids," Alice realized quietly.

Tearful, Amy nodded with a sniffle. "Their lives were ripped away from them. From _me._ I know you understand me, Alice."

"But why make Kellen kill people he hated in real life?"

Amy shrugged and flicked something off her shoulder, unaffected again. "Like I said. He was so pathetic. Felt really bad for the people he was an asshole to when he was alive. To really punish him, I needed him to take their lives. It really worked wonders."

Giving Dean the side eye, she gave a tiny sigh. "I know you're thinking about burning my body, now. Go ahead. Maybe that'll work. Maybe it won't. But if you're thinking of touching my babies' bodies, you better _not."_

Alice glanced at Dean, who wasn't denying what the ghost was saying. "Dean, you can _not_ burn her poor kids' bodies."

"But it that's what's keeping her here—"

"It's not. They're already gone. I swear. Look, I'm a little sad you burned my toy, but I have no quarrel with you two. You were just trying to do what was right. As long as you don't touch my children, we won't have a problem."

He scoffed. Dean was not about to bargain with a ghost. "Well, sorry honey, but we can't just leave you here to terrorize this town,"

"You won't have to. I want to be with my kids as soon as possible. There's just one more thing I have to do. One more person that needs to die."

"You're not touching Helena Declan," Dean said.

"I agree. She was gonna be next if Kellen was still alive, but I think you two may have done me a favor by getting rid of his ghost. I was a _little_ blinded by the rage. Don't get me wrong: I'm still full of rage, but it's made me focused. Now I see she's just a grieving widow that doesn't deserve to die.

"But…there is a grieving _widower_ that needs die."

Alice and Dean looked back and forth between each other, trying to figure out who the ghost was talking about. Dean just thought she was delusional. Alice thought she was a mother in pain.

"My dear husband," Amy continued. "Alice, you met him. Almost _intimately_ , I might add."

Feeling herself pale and go cold, Alice began to shake. "Peter?"

"That's right. The handsome doctor? And not even a week after his wife and children are brutally killed in a car accident, he's a carefree Casanova—wedding ring in his pocket—trying to pick up ladies in a bar."

Amy stopped and eyed how Dean was suddenly pulling Alice even closer to him, and how Alice shook like it was below zero outside. "I know I make it cold but you don't need to shiver like it's the middle of winter, honey. And don't worry. You didn't know. I _was_ mad at you, but I've seen how much you beat yourself up over things that I don't think anything I can do to you would be as punishing as the things you do to yourself. So keep up the good work." Amy teleported to in front of Alice and patted her on the cheek.

Reacting on pure adrenaline and instinct, Dean pushed Alice back behind him and flung a canister of salt at Amy.

With a screech, Amy went swirling away into the darkness for a moment, be appearing, breathing heavily. "Don't _do_ that!" She yelled. Amy pointed a finger at Alice. _"Don't_ give me a reason to kill her. Because if you keep acting like this, I _will!"_

"Touch her, and I _will_ torch their bodies. Just on principle," Dean growled lowly.

Composing herself, Amy stopped and scowled. _"Fine._ But I gotta say, it makes me a little sick that you'd so willingly do that to my babies. How would you feel if I did that to—what are their names again?—Noah and Cara?"

Both parents were suddenly straightened up, watching Amy with cold, warning eyes. It was amazing how the simple mention of their kid's names could send them into a tailspin.

"I wouldn't hurt a child," Amy assured. _"That's_ the measure of a real monster. Someone who would hurt a child.

"Well…I'm getting bored of you two. I wanted to find you to tell you to burn my body after I'm finished. Just in case. Now if you don't mind me, I need to drop by to visit my dear husband."

"Amy, wait don't—"

"Really treasure your kids. Tell them you love them every day. The sooner this is over, the sooner I'll get to see them again," Amy said.

And with that, Amy was gone.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find the Kindcaida's house. And once they did, Alice was banging on the door, yelling for Peter like he was an old friend to worry about.

"Move," Dean instructed, and roundhouse kicked the door down once she was out of the way.

"Peter! Peter! Amy don't touch him!" Alice found herself yelling as she dashed around the first floor. When she didn't see anyone, she made a dash for the stairs and caught herself in the first doorway she went to.

"Oh God," Alice whispered to herself.

Peter was laid face up on the bed. His face was purple, eyes bulging, tongue sticking out of his mouth. A tie was wrapped tightly around his neck and his hands—which had likely been grasping the tie—were loosely gripping the edges of the tie.

Only when she felt a tug on her arm that Alice was able to look away from Peter.

"Come on," Dean said quietly. "We've gotta go."

With a nod, Alice allowed Dean to guide her out of the house, while he wiped down anywhere they may have touched on the way out, same as they had done at the morgue after burning Kellen Declan's body.

"We need to finish it."

"Huh?" Alice turned sideways, realizing she was sitting in the Impala.

"We need to burn Amy's body. Just to be sure," Dean said. Looking around, Alice realized they were driving in the direction of the morgue.

"No, please, no more," her voice was hoarse and fragile, like it was about to crack. She couldn't stand the thought of seeing another corpse.

"Just one more. I promise," Dean insisted, looking at her carefully, like she might explode if he made her any more upset.

She didn't respond, but by the time they reached the morgue parking lot, Alice felt herself beginning to shake at the idea of walking through the doors. Seeing Amy's body would put her over the edge. Even though Amy had been a ghost, she looked healthy and _alive._ It would be too much to see Amy's battered and bruised body now.

Once Dean had taken the key out of the ignition, he turned to Alice.

Shaking her head, she felt the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. "Dean, I can't. I—"

Leaning forward, he grabbed the side of her face and gently kissed her jaw. "It's okay. I'll be fast."

With a slam of the door, Alice was alone.

And she wept.

* * *

It took a lot for John Winchester to get drunk.

"Another!" John slammed his empty glass down on the counter petulantly, impatiently waiting for the bartender to make his way over with the whiskey bottle.

The bartender, a man, probably slightly older than Sam and Dean, approached John with a judgmental air. Matching John in pettiness, the man poured the drink into the glass with obvious irritation. "You know, the bottle's almost gone."

"Then you better crack open another one," John growled back. He pounded back the entire drink in one gulp.

"This is our last bottle."

"Bullshit! What kind of bar only has one bottle of whiskey on hand?" With a flash of rage, John reacted by throwing his glass against the back wall of the bar. The glass shattered loudly, causing the bar to grow silent, all eyes on the red-faced man heaving in anger.

Glaring darkly at John, the bartender slammed the bottle down on the back counter. "I think you should leave," he counseled lowly.

"I'm not leaving till I get another damn drink," John snapped back.

"Get lost you drunk!" Someone from deep within the bar called.

"Yeah, you're ruining it for the rest of us!" Someone else echoed.

"Mind your own damn business before I kick your ass!" John yelled back, turning around, trying to locate the hecklers. Spinning around so quickly caused his already double vision to multiply.

"If you don't leave, I'm calling the cops," the bartender warned.

Giving the bartender a challenging glare, John finally relented when the man grabbed the rotary phone and punched in the first two digits.

"Fuck you," John hissed. Pushing himself off his stool, it fell to the ground. "This place has the shittiest whiskey I've ever had!" He yelled, stumbling his way through the double doors.

* * *

Alice couldn't stand to spend one more minute in Devil's Lake, so as soon as Dean was done in the morgue, they gathered their stuff from the motel and drove like bats out of hell.

Once they were about two hours out, Dean gently guided the car down to a rest area near a lake. There was a dock near the parking lot protruding into the water, and several picnic tables were erected nearby.

Pulling the sunglasses off her face, even in the dark, Dean could see the shimmering quality of her eyes. He thought she'd been asleep.

"We should talk," she said simply, regarding him for the first time since they left Devil's Lake.

Talking about what happened was really the last thing Dean wanted to do, but he knew how hard the whole thing had been on Alice. "Sure."

The two exited the car and made their way down to the edge of the dock. Pushing off her shoes, and pulling up the legs of her jeans, Alice sat down and let her feet dangle in the cool, glassy water. Dean reluctantly followed and sank down beside her.

They stared out at the water in silence, Dean waiting for Alice to speak.

"I don't know how you can do this," Alice finally spoke. Her voice broke in multiple spots. She flagellated herself that even after a few hours she still sounded on the edge of tears. She suddenly wished she hadn't taken the sunglasses off her face, because even in the pale moonlight, it was still too much visibility for her to cry openly.

"I'm sorry," he responded quietly. There was a reason he had tried to keep hunting and his family separate. He knew how devastating a case could be on someone who hadn't grown up around it. It was really all his fault. He never should've agreed to take Alice on a hunt in the first place. And it wasn't as if he could say at least she had never gotten hurt—already she had almost died in the LeGrange case.

He should've known better than to take her.

"Don't be. I shouldn't have been mad at you and yelled at you. I shouldn't have gone to the bar that night. I should've have come back to the room with…Dean?"

"What?"

"I understand why you didn't tell me about hunting."

He was silent.

"I _never_ want the kids to even know about it," Alice requested.

"I agree," Dean intoned. If there was something they would always agree on, it was the safety of their children. "But there's one more thing I need to say."

Alice felt herself beginning to hunch forward, drawing herself into a ball.

"I should've listened to you. You were right about Kellen. I was just to mad at myself for letting you come with. I just wish you never had to see me like that."

"It seems like we both have things to be sorry for," Alice responded. "Let's forgive and move on." She didn't want to forget, however, she needed the reminder of how hard Dean's job was. She needed the images of Peter's dead body, and Amy's sadness over her children to keep Cara and Noah safe and her thoughts in perspective.

"Agreed," Dean said. Standing up, he held out a hand to Alice.

Once they were both up, he pulled the keys out of his pocket. "Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

They arrived at Bobby's around sunrise.

Upon seeing John's pickup truck parked in front of the house, Dean began to feel strange. The pickup truck meant his father was safe and sound, but it also meant he had met his grandchildren.

"That's his car, isn't it?" Alice felt herself asking, unable to look away from the truck.

Dean nodded. "Yeah." Letting out a deep breath, as the two approached the door, he pulled out his key and turned the lock to Bobby's front door.

Once in the dark house, there was the sound of glass dropping to the floor. Ready to grab his gun, Dean slowly moved into the house. "Bobby? Sam? It's Dean and Alice."

"Dean?" A voice from within the study caused Dean to freeze for a moment.

He recognized that voice.

"Dad?" Dean called back hesitantly, making his way towards the source of the voice.

"Yeah."

The two stepped into the room as one, and witnessed a drunken John Winchester slumped behind Bobby's desk. There were several empty bottles of alcohol around him.

Upon seeing him for the first time, Alice was frozen for a moment. Seeing the bottles filled with amber liquid caused her to see flashbacks of her mother, wearing a bathrobe, sitting in the living room in the early morning light. In the memory, Sherry holding heavy glass a heavy glass tumbler, shakily holding a crystal decanter with the other, as amber liquid poured into the glass.

Looking up at the two, John clumsily stood up from the desk, pushing the chair into the wall behind him. A loud thud vibrated through the house.

"Fuck," John muttered under his breath, grabbing the edge of the desk so he didn't fall.

"Dad." There was relief in Dean's voice. Although his father was completely smashed, at least he was _alive._

"Uh-huh," John waved a dismissive hand at his son.

A bit stung by John's lack of reaction to seeing him, Dean continued, trying to keep his father's attention. "It's good to see you. Been awhile. You know, we've been worried about you."

"So I've been told," John retorted, words slurring in drunken sloppiness.

Watching Dean's disappointed reaction, Alice stepped forward, and held out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester. I'm Alice Mercer."

Eyes flicking to her, John studied the woman in front of him. "Why am I only hearing about you now? Must be damn special to have my son keep coming back to you."

"Dad—"

"It's fine, Dean," Alice said, retracting her hand.

"Is it? I met your kids, Alice Mercer. My grandchildren? The ones that were a secret for ten years by you," John snapped at her nastily.

"Don't talk to her like that," Dean suddenly said.

There was a gust of air leaving the room. Never _never_ had Dean stood up to this father like that.

John was silent, studying the way Dean and Alice moved together, the subtle interactions between the two of them. It was as if they were breathing as one, communicating without words.

And in his muddled mind, he came to one conclusion.

"You're a wicked woman," John finally said.

Even _that_ shocked Alice. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." John staggered forward towards the two of them. "You've been clouding my son's judgement for _years._ You've made him unfocused, which puts him in danger while he hunts. You deceived him, _twice,_ using my grandchildren as pawns, forcing him to stay around. You hid my grandchildren from me, Sammy's niece and nephew, and Dean's own _children._ What kind of _woman_ does that? A snake."

 _"_ _That's enough!"_ With an uncontrolled display of rage, Dean rammed forward into his father, knocking John back into the desk. Books went flying across the floor, bottles clattering to the ground.

Before Dean could go back to shove John again, Alice and a newly appeared Sam were between the two of them.

Facing Dean, Alice placed both hands on his heaving chest. "Please, Dean. It's not worth it. It's okay."

Facing his father, Sam was dragging John up by the collar of his shirt. "You need to leave. _Now._ Cara and Noah are waking up and they don't need to see this shit from you. So _go."_ With a final push, Sam shoved John towards the door, who stumbled into the knob.

Turning around, John glared at his sons and Alice. "I'll admit, she's a pretty one, Dean. Hopefully she doesn't end up like your mother." John's gaze swiveled to Sam. "Or Jess."

 _"_ _LEAVE!"_ Sam yelled, losing his composure, like Dean a moment ago. He opened the door and threw his father outside.

The three listened with heavy breathing as there were bangs outside and a slew of profanities. Eventually they heard a car door slam and the turnover of an engine.

Holding their breath for several minutes, Sam finally peeked his head out the front window and saw John Winchester's car gone.

"I wish we never found him," Sam muttered darkly.

"Sam..." Dean began.

"How can you defend him after everything that just happened?" Sam retaliated, on behalf of Alice.

"I wasn't going to defend him. But his is our father, Sam, regardless of everything that happens." Again, it didn't take long for Dean to begin talking like a good little soldier.

"You're just like him. Learned it from the best, didn't you, Dean?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean was moving closer to size up his little brother, who wasn't so little anymore.

"Why do you let him walk all over you? Even now, with her and the kids!"

"Hey, _hey!"_ Alice yelled sharply. "Look, you two obviously know your father better than I do, but it's okay. I understand, better than anyone, difficult parents."

Sam and Dean looked at each other guiltily.

"We've all got our own shit to sort out, but for now, put a lid on it." As Alice said that, Noah appeared, rubbing his eyes, Cara coming a few moments later.

And as promised, the adults smacked smiles on their faces and pretended like there wasn't a damn thing wrong in the world.

* * *

 **I want to apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out. It's been a long couple months filled with work and classes. But hopefully, the length will make up for it!**

 **I hope everyone is enjoying their summer and please, review and favorite! I really appreciate it and any feedback helps!**

 **V.**


	27. Water of the Womb

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven: Water of the Womb**

* * *

Things kept on spinning. Everyone had tried adjusting to the abrupt changes in their lives. Cara and Noah found themselves wondering more and more about their extended family, but found themselves more quiet than normal. The two would covertly discuss the possibilities about everything. Ever since their stay at Bobby's, everyone seemed different. Their mom had slipped back to her paranoid, and jumpy self, the way she had been after they had nearly drowned, years ago. Their dad came around less and less, at one point without Sam, who they learned had a fight with their Dad. Unbeknownst to the two, Sam had trekked across the country, trying to relocate their father, after catching wind he was trying to hunt down the yellow-eyed demon once again. During that time, he met a girl named Meg, who a while later, proved to be a demon when Sam and Dean encountered her again. It was then she used them as bait to lure their father out of the darkness. In a blur, John had saved his sons, only to leave without so much as a word.

For Alice and Dean, they tried to act like the hunt with the both of them had never happened, but both were poor at keeping up the charade. Alice knew what Dean did on a daily basis, and her anxiety and worry for him shot through the roof. On the other end, Dean felt guilty and beat himself up more and more for what kind of position he had put her in. Never had Dean wanted Alice to worry about him, but now she was on the verge of shakiness everyday of her life.

With a huff, Noah rolled onto his side and wrapped a pillow around his head. He hadn't been sleeping well the past couple nights, and it had left him irritable and aggressive-two things he normally wasn't. For someone who needed at least nine hours of sleep a night and _loved_ sleeping, he couldn't understand why he stared at his ceiling for most of the night. And every time he was about to drift off, he would get a hot flash and wake up in a panic, like he had just been scared awake from a nightmare, but he didn't think he was dreaming-he couldn't remember dreaming.

"Why can't I just sleep?" The boy whispered to himself in frustration, after being thrown awake, in the same sweaty fit as he had been several times in the past fews hours.

Rolling back onto his other side and flipping over the pillow, Noah forced his eyes shut and tried to calm himself down, now worked up over the fact he was awake once again.

Little did he know, the crescendo was building and swelling, and would soon burst.

* * *

There wasn't much that rattled Dean anymore. He figured he'd seen it all, but apparently that wasn't the case.

The whole situation

Like vampires. Those were real.

And so was the Colt, a gun that could kill _any_ supernatural creature.

Including the yellow-eyed demon, or hopefully that bitch Meg.

And even more surprising than that, John had eventually caved and allowed his sons to work with him in hunting down the yellow-eyed demon. They had run into him when they found the Colt, after he had saved them from While hunting the vampire nest until now, no one had mentioned what had happened a few weeks back. As far as the trio was concerned, it was like old times, before Sam went to school, and before Dean had told either of them about Alice and the kids. And even more than that, John acted like he had never saved his sons from Meg. It seemed that John was acting like the first time he saw his sons was before Bobby's, and everything happening after that was just a mirage.

"Dean, before we get started, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Turning around, Dean set down the bundle of clothes he was about to shove into his duffle bag. Sam had gone to the gas station to fill up the Impala, before the three would be driving west towards signs of demonic omens.

"What's up, Dad?"

Looking a bit sheepish, John indicated for Dean to sit down across from him. Reluctantly, Dean slid into the chair and found himself watching John's hands, which were carefully bundling the Colt in cloth, and then into a gun case.

"Listen, Dean, when we were at Bobby's…"

Realizing where the conversation was going, Dean felt himself sit up straighter. "We don't have to-"

"Yes we do," John insisted with a hard voice, still looking down at the table. Swallowing, he carefully latched the gun case and slid it to the side. "The way I acted at Bobby's was...unacceptable. I shouldn't have said those things to Alice. I should have acted better in front your kids." Looking up at Dean, John had a truly apologetic look in his eyes. "I wanted to apologize."

"Dad-"

John held up a hand. "You're not a teenager anymore. I'm not gonna yell at you for old mistakes.

"Dad-"

"That's your family, Dean. _Our_ family. Got it?"

There was a strange sensation to hearing John acknowledge Alice and the kids as part of the family. And feeling that the conversation was over, Dean nodded and watched as John continued to move about the room, acting like nothing had ever happened, but something definitely had.

"Yeah, sir, I got it."

Flipping over a map that had been folded in his jacket, John smacked it into the table, indicating the markings he'd made. "Good. Take a look at this."

Leaning over John's shoulder, Dean looked at what was a doppler radar that had been printed out. His eyes moved to a cell cluster that had been circled by a dark marker.

It hung over the Midwest.

"I've been tracking the demon for months. And if I'm right, this storm means he's gonna be somewhere in this area."

The storm was huge. It encompassed all the way from Iowa to Ohio, and then from Minnesota all the way down to the Missouri.

"That's a lot of area to cover," Dean commented, staring at Illinois, specifically.

"Then we better get started."

* * *

As the Winchester trio was racing towards the trail the yellow-eyed demon left behind, in a small church several hundred miles away, the doors burst open as a young woman with closely cropped blonde hair and a red leather jacket stepped into the building.

The pastor, a salt and pepper haired man, glanced up, and smiled pleasantly. "Good morning. Can I help you?"

The woman looked around, glancing at the lofty ceilings and wooden altar. "I kinda need to talk."

The pastor nodded. "Well, that's what I'm here for."

Giving a small, grateful nod, the woman slid into the pew, the pastor following behind.

"I've...done some things. Not good things," the woman admitted.

Nodding, the pastor took a deep breath. "Well, there's always forgiveness for us if we seek it."

The blonde woman looked surprised. "For everyone? Even someone like me?"

He nodded. "I like to say salvation was made for sinners. Tell me what's on your mind."

Taking a deep breath, preparing herself to confess her sins, the woman began. "Well, I lied a lot. I've stolen; I've lusted. And the other day, I met this man. A really nice guy, you know? We had a really good chat. Sort of like this. Then I slit his throat and ripped his heart out of his chest."

The woman blinked up at the pastor, her eyes completely black.

"Oh. I realized I never gave my name. It's Meg, by the way."

Jumping up, the pastor backed his way out of the pew. "I know what you are. You can't be here. This is hallowed ground."

Meg scoffed, slowly standing up. "Please. Maybe that works in the minor leagues, but not with me." With delight, Meg watched the pastor run down the aisle, to a room on the side of the building. She paused for a moment as he disappeared, tilting her head to the side as she heard rustling in the room.

And to her, the man's next movements were in slow motion. From across the sanctuary, he threw a knife at her, that she easily caught between two fingers. "You know," she threw the knife down. "You throw like a girl."

Realizing his attempts were futile, the pastor began to back up, as Meg matched his every step.

"What do you want?"

Meg smirked. "The Winchesters."

Frowning, the pastor shook his head. "I haven't talked to John Winchester in over a year."

"Shh. Shh. I know. I just want you to know you'll be seeing all of them shortly."

Before the pastor could respond, Meg was in front of him, the knife in her hand leaving an angry, gushing gash across the pastor's throat.

Laughing as he fell to the floor, Meg stepped over his shaking body, twirling the bloody knife in one hand.

* * *

Usually, Cara was quite adept at avoiding conflicts. As someone who was typically very passive aggressive, but not right out aggressive, she rarely got in screaming matches. But for awhile now, Noah had really been ticking her off, going out of his way to be outright malicious to her. Normally, he had fun playfully irritating to her, but a few of his verbal assaults had reduced her to tears.

Because he had been acting so mean lately, it had put her on edge, which in turn at put their mother on edge, who was having to spend more time playing disciplinarian than she normally did.

Due most interactions with her mother and brother being unpleasant, Cara often found herself, holed up in her room, isolated from the world, trying to drown herself in whatever book was closest by.

Huffing, Cara slammed her book shut, not knowing what to do with all the pent-up conflict she felt within. And at the rate they were going, she didn't know how long they could all continue without exploding.

* * *

They had been driving for a few hours when John, who was leading the way, suddenly pulled over to the side of the road.

From the inside of the Impala, Sam and Dean glanced at one another before Dean shrugged and parked behind the truck.

The two climbed out of the truck and were greeted by the sound of their father swearing.

"What is it?" Dean asked, cautiously approaching an angry John.

"I just got a call from Caleb." Caleb had been a family friend for many years, someone Sam and Dean had stayed with sometimes, if Bobby wasn't available.

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead."

The two younger men stilled.

"Pastor Jim? How?"

John shrugged helplessly. "His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

Dean's mind turned as he put the pieces together. "A demon... _the_ demon?"

"I don't know. Could be he got careless, slipped up. Maybe it knows we're getting close," John suggested.

But that didn't sit right with Sam. "You think the demon made a mistake? Dad, this bastard doesn't make mistakes." It _had_ to be a trap. After their run in with Meg, he couldn't believe an old friend of the family would just _happen_ to be killed by a demon, when the Winchesters were closing in on a particular yellow-eyed one.

John sighed, knowing Sam was more than likely right. Still, he was too focused on his own rage. "This ends now. I don't care what it takes. I'm ending it." With that, John abruptly climbed into his truck, slammed the door and gunned down the road, leaving Sam and Dean to follow the angry, vengeful trail of their father.

* * *

They followed to demonic omens to the town of Salvation, where the yellow-eyed demon was looking for a new family to terrorize, going after babies reaching the six month mark. Sam had a personal stake in it, as the demon came after him when he was that age, which consequently led to the death of his mother, and then Jess.

John had lost the love of his life, which had turned into a broken, bitter man. He knew how he ruined his kid's lives by forcing them to hunt from the time they were young. And maybe, this could be their entire way out of this shitty life. Admittedly, there was a small part of him that somehow thought he could be healed after the bastard was dead. But truly, he knew he'd been dead for a long time. Burned on a ceiling more than twenty years ago.

And Dean. The demon had terrorized his brother, killed his mother, and broken his father, but there was another aspect that enraged him. The idea that the demon went after defenseless babies made him want to skin old yellow eyes until even his bones would have scratches on them. For some reason, it was incredibly easy to imagine a sinister figure standing over a lacy bassinet, sheer curtains streaming moonlight into the dark nursery, where an infant Cara or Noah was sleeping.

For the sake of other young parents, and especially their children, the Winchesters needed to end it with their family.

* * *

The three Winchesters had separated to scour records in hospitals and clinics to find out which babies were turning six months old tonight. And just as they had all returned to the Impala, after finding nothing but dead ends, Sam collapsed to the ground, holding his head in pain, indicating another vision. Dean had grabbed his brother in familiar panic. Immediately afterward, Sam quickly brushed Dean off and indicated he knew what family was going to be targeted.

Sam wouldn't answer any of his brother's questions as he drove to a neighborhood with expertise, like he had been there before. After reaching a quiet, tree-lined cul-de-sac, that reminded Dean a bit of Alice's street, Sam parked the car and jumped out, approaching a young woman standing in front of a stroller. She was fumbling with a stubborn umbrella, trying to close it against the retreating clouds.

Recognizing the woman from his vision, Sam jogged across the street. "Hi. Here, let me help you. You look like you don't need that anymore.

"Oh, thank you."

As Sam handed the umbrella back to the woman, he leaned over and peered into the stroller, seeing a tiny baby tucked under a blanket. The one from his vision. He looked up at the woman. "She's gorgeous, is she yours?"

Fondly, the woman nodded while glancing down at the baby as well, pulling the blanket up a little higher.

"Oh wow," Sam said in a higher pitched voice, before straightening up and turning to the mother. "Oh, sorry. I'm rude. I'm Sam. Just moved up the street."

"I'm Monica. And this is Rosie," Monica cooed, leaning over the stroller once again.

At this point, Dean had caught up to his brother and had watched the interaction take place. When he walked up, Monica stared at him expectantly, with a small smile on her face.

"Oh, and this is Dean. My brother," Sam introduced.

Monica smiled and waved, welcoming the two of them to the neighborhood.

The two made small talk for several minutes, with Sam doing most of the chatting. Until Rosie's age came up.

"She's six months today. Growing like a weed, right?"

"Six months, huh?" Dean asked, becoming more a part of the conversation. "Enjoy it while their young. Because when they start talking and walking they become a real pain."

Sam glanced at Dean with a bit of sadness, knowing Dean was thinking about all the moments he missed with his children.

Monica glanced at Dean knowingly. "Do you have kids?"

Dean nodded, feeling a small smile grace his face. "Yeah. Two."

Monica smiled. "I hope Rosie gets another little brother or sister soon."

He smiled. "Mine are less than two years apart."

"Oh really? How old are they?" Monica asked, eyes lighting up in excitement. She honestly never got tired of talking about Rosie, or hearing about other people's kids.

"Cara's ten. Noah's nine." Dean felt himself smirk. "I was pretty young when they were born."

Monica shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Cause once they're here, they change your life forever."

Dean was about to respond, when Monica suddenly turned the stroller in a direction of a car pulling into a driveway that was nearby. "There's Daddy!" She pointed, as if Rosie was going to sit up and respond.

Seeing the woman lose focus, Sam spoke up. "Monica?"

"Yeah?" She turned to look at him.

"Just take care of yourself, alright?"

"You two! It was nice to meet you two. I guess I'll see you around."

And with that, the Winchester brothers watched as Monica turned the stroller around, approaching the man climbing out of the car, wide smiles on both their faces.

Sam was the first to turn back to the Impala.

Dean lingered for a fraction of a second, before jolting himself away from the scene.

* * *

Their father was already back at the motel, pissed that he hadn't found anything useful or worthwhile. Sam was in the process of explaining what was going on when in the middle of a sentence, he gasped in pain and collapsed to the floor, shaking like an epileptic.

Alarmed by the increasing frequency he was having visions, Dean stooped over Sam, calling his name, while John leaned over his son, in abject horror, not understanding what was going on.

Sweating, Sam came out of the fever dream panting loudly, but now completely sure the demon was going after Monica and her family. Rubbing his temples after watching a young woman burn on the ceiling above her baby, Sam was hunched over the table in the motel room, Dean standing anxiously nearby, while John sat across the table from him, simply staring,attempting to make sense of what was happening.

"A vision," John stated, no inflection or emotion in his voice.

Sam squeezed his shut even harder, _really_ not wanting to have this conversation right now."Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because…"

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them," Sam explained, a bit desperately, seeing John continue to look skeptical. "I had _two_ visions of her. The first one showed me her yelling for help while her house caught fire. In this one, I _saw_ the demon.

"She told us today was her daughter's six month birthday."

John raised an eyebrow, not necessarily questioning the validity of the information, but more the modicum of how Sam came to the information.

Realizing this, Dean jumped in. "It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake." While talking, Dean maneuvered into the small kitchenette, and grabbed a carafe filled with coffee and a mug, setting both down in front of Sam.

Beginning to pour himself some coffee, Sam elaborated. "Yeah. It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon, the stronger the visions get."

"When were you going to tell me about this?"

Pausing, Sam and Dean stopped what they were doing and stared at John.

"We didn't know what it meant-" Dean began.

"Alright, something like this starts happening, you pick up the phone and call me. Or you tell me when you see me. At Bobby's. Or after the Daeva's."

Twitching at the mention of Bobby's, Dean strode forward, towards his father. "Call you? Are you kidding me? I called you from Lawrence. Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery. And at Bobby's…" he trailed off, remembering that John had apologized. But in Dean's mind, he still sometimes went over a scenario in which Cara and Noah had somehow came upon their grandfather in a fit of drunken rage.

Catching himself, John stopped. "You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

A little too preoccupied to be touched by the exchange, Sam diverted the conversation back to what really mattered. "Looks guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."

"No they're not. No one is. Ever again," John insisted.

With that, Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Frowning at the number he didn't recognize, still, he answered it. "Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Who's this?"

The voice gave a short giggle. "Think real hard and it'll come to you."

"Meg," he growled, malice laced in his voice. Composing himself a little bit, he continued. "Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."

"Yeah, no thanks to you. That really hurt my feelings, by the way."

He scoffed. "Just your feelings? That was a seven story drop."

"I'm a _demon,_ sweetheart. It takes a whole lot more than being pushed from an apartment building. Anyways...lemme speak to your Dad."

Sam glanced at his father. "My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is."

The demon seemed unimpressed. "It's time for the grownups to talk. Let me speak to him. _Now."_

Hesitantly, Sam passed the phone over to John, who put it on speaker, holding it equidistant between the three of them.

"This is John,"

"Howdy, John. I'm Meg. A friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood...also, I'm the one his slit his throat. But that's besides the point. Anyways...that was yesterday. Today? I'm in Lincoln visiting another one of your old friends. He wants to say hi."

A voice came over Meg's line. "John whatever you do, don't give-"

"Caleb?" John yelled into the phone. "You listen to me, you evil bitch, he's got nothing to do with this-"

"We know you have the Colt, John," Meg said, cutting the bullshit.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well. How about this? If you don't give it to me, I'll slit Caleb's throat. Just like Jimmy." Waiting for John to respond, he didn't. And with that, there was a slicing sound, a gasp, and then the sound of a man drowning in his own blood from the other end of the line.

The three Winchesters listened to the life gasp it's way out of Caleb's breath for several minutes, all of them feeling rage coiling their muscles. Dean and Sam wanted to shout at the bitch to stop, but John held his hand up, indicating them to be quiet.

After a few minutes, she pulled the phone away from Caleb, when she realized that tactic wouldn't work. "Hmm," Meg said, a bit surprised. "I thought that would do the trick. Perhaps some more collateral.

"Check out the picture I'm sending your way, boys. It's a sneak peek of who the next lucky victims are gonna be."

Intrigued, and also horrified, the three watched as Sam's phone lit up, and he got a new picture message. Clicking on the icon, the three squinted at the grainy picture.

It was view of a house, seeming to be taken from the street. The house was two story, gray brick, with orange and yellow flowers on either side of the door.

Immediately feeling his pupils dilate, Dean grabbed the phone from John, squeezing it so hard the edges began to crack. "I swear to _Christ_ Meg, you even-"

She laughed. "I what? I'm in Lincoln like I said."

"Dean, what is it?" John demanded, recognizing the edge in his son's voice.

"This picture? That's _Alice's_ house," Dean explained, desperately wanting to reach through the phone and

Stilling, John realized the implications of that. "You bitch. You wouldn't _dare."_

There was a scoff. "We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. And as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties...even women and children."

Dean bared his teeth again. "Meg, I'm going to-"

"Oh can it, Captain America," Meg grumbled at him.

"I'm gonna kill you, you know," John swore into the phone.

"Mind your blood pressure, old man. Anyways, I have a proposition for you, Johnny boy. You bring the Colt and yourself to Lincoln. _Alone."_

He was silent.

"Dad," Dean begged.

John glanced at his son, thinking.

"Time's 'a tickin', Winchester," Meg crooned.

" _Dad,"_ Dean begged again.

"So this is the thing," Meg cut in. "We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved. They're all gonna die. And what better place to start than two innocent kiddos with your blood running through their veins? With _Mary's_ blood running through their veins?"

At this point, Dean was screaming incoherently into the phone, trying to attack it like the blonde haired, black eyed bitch was standing there, right in the middle of the room. In response, Sam held his brother back while John gripped the phone tightly.

"Okay."

"Sorry? I couldn't hear you over your son's pathetic screaming."

"I said okay. I'll bring you the Colt."

She giggled. "Great. There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there."

John did the math, but felt himself sag a bit in relief that she was actually in Lincoln, and not Batavia. "It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there."

She was unflinching. "Meet me there. Midnight tonight."

"That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane."

She sighed wistfully. "I can guarantee I get get to Batavia faster than you can get here. And if not, I've already got some good friends on standby that can be to crappy Illinois at a moment's notice.

"Oh well. If you decide to make it, come alone. If not, your son is gonna know what's it's like to watch his children die. Toodles."

The line cut off abruptly.

* * *

As soon as the line went dead, there was a flurry of activity in the motel room. Both Dean and John began flying around the room, moving like blurs, while Sam was still trying to process the call.

"What do we do?" Sam eventually asked.

"I'm going to Lincoln," John said.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Am I'm going to Batavia," Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked, to Dean, this time.

"It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, people we love die," John said. Dean had turned away and was focused on gathering his things, scattered around the room.

"But the demon is coming _tonight,_ for Monica and her family," Sam argued.

"Did you see that picture, Sam?" Dean shot back. "That's her house! There's demons coming for them, too!"

Deflating a bit, Sam glanced over at the Colt, tucked away in it's case. "The gun is all we've got. You can't just hand it over."

John stopped and glanced at his younger son. "Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a couple of of vampires, no one's really seen the gun, No one knows what it looks like."

Sam scoffed in disbelief. "So what, you're gonna pick up a ringer from a gun shop?"

"Antique store," John corrected, like that was any better.

"You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

Exasperated, John continued to pack the rest of his things, while Dean steadily ignored the two, throwing all of his belongings into his own bag. "Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long? What happens when she figures out?"

"I just...need to buy a few hours. That's all."

Picking up on the undertones of his voice, Sam guessed what his father meant. "You mean for us? You want me to stay here and kill the demon?"

John shook his head. "No, Sam. I want to stop losing people I love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home." Pausing, Dean's back was to them, but he didn't respond to what they were saying. "I want Mary alive. I just want this to be over."

* * *

Sam stood between John's trunk and Dean's Impala, watching the two of them slam their trunks in synchronicity. They approached him from other side, as Sam handed John a brown paper bag.

Taking the bag, John pulled out the antique gun from inside, and examined it, before replacing it in the paper.

For the first time, Dean allowed himself to clearly look at the situation, and what was happening. "You know this is a trap, don't you? That's why she wants you to come alone."

John brushed off the worry. "I can handle her. Dean, _you_ be careful."

He nodded. "Yes sir."

Looking down at his watch, John sighed. "If I'm gonna get there by midnight, I have to haul ass. You two kick it's ass, you hear me?"

The brothers nodded and hugged their father goodbye and told him to be careful, both ultimately wondering when they would see him again, and the circumstances that would surround it.

When John's truck had pulled, Sam turned to his brother. "I'm guessing it's your turn to go now?" He asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

Dean nodded. "You know I have to."

Sam shook his head, and looked down at the ground. "I don't know how I'm supposed to do this alone…" He admitted, fruitlessly.

"Hey," Dean said, getting Sam to look at him. "You _can_ do this. I don't know anyone who can more than you. You'll have the Colt and your ivy league brain. And not to mention all the skills your kick ass older brother taught you."

Smirking mirthlessly, Sam nodded. "I just wish you and Dad could be there when I do it."

Dean clapped a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "You'll do it for all of us. For Jess. And Mom."

With a final nod, Sam grabbed Dean into a hug. "Tell Alice and the kids I said hi."

Pulling away, Dean smiled, jingling his keys. "And tell Ol' Yellow Eyes to kiss my ass."

* * *

Night had fallen. Sam was sitting in a borrowed car, across the street from Monica's house. Inside, it was lit up and he watched them have a family dinner, laughing and enjoying themselves, unaware of their fate in a few hours.

At this point, Dean and John would've both been driving for several hours by then, nonstop.

Seeing the Colt lying on the passenger seat beside him, it stilled Sam, reminding him why he was here. It was strange, to have the passenger seat beside him empty. He was used to being without his father, but ever since Dean had come to get him from school all those months ago, Sam couldn't've ever imagined this night, let alone facing the bastard by himself.

Shaking his head vigorously, Sam expelled the sentimental thoughts and kept his mind on what mattered: saving an innocent family and killing that demonic bastard.

Obsessively checking the gun to make sure the bullets were still in there, he laid it back on the seat, and went back to staring at the house, waiting.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, a young blonde woman stood in the middle of a warehouse, turning when she heard a creak on the other side of the building.

Feeling her lips pull back into a cruel smile, Meg greeted the figure in front of her. "John, you made it. Too bad really, I was hoping to kill your grandkids."

"Sorry to disappoint," he offered, with no emotion.

Taking a step forward, Meg glanced up and down his body. "Mmm. I can see where your boys get their good looks. Though, considering what they say about you, I thought you'd be...I don't know, _taller."_

John remained silent. A bit impressed by his lack of emotion, but irritated he wasn't taking the bait, Meg dropped the teasing act. "Well aren't you the chatty one. You wanna talk business? Fine. So why don't you just hand over the gun."

John looked around. "If I give you the gun, how do I know I'll get out of here?"

"If you're as good as they say, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Maybe I'll just shoot you, instead."

 _That's right, keep things interesting,_ Meg thought, smirking once again. "You wanna shoot me, baby? Go ahead. There's more where I came from." Head craning towards the shadows, she indicated for another demon to emerge, letting John know he was outnumbered.

Alarmed, John managed to stand his ground. "Who the hell is that?" He glanced at the demon, a brooding guy that was built like a tank.

"He's not nearly as much fun as I am I can tell you that. So I suggest you give us the gun," Meg said, impatience beginning to seep into her voice. "Now!"

Reluctantly, John passes the gun to Meg, who holds it up close to her face, examining it. "This is the Colt?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." With a frown, she gives the gun to the male demon. "What do you think?"

Taking the gun from her, he quickly cocks it and shoots Meg in the chest, the blast sending her backwards, and into a stack of sad, forgotten cardboard boxes.

Staggering up and feeling the hole that was now in her shirt, Meg gripped her chest. "You fucking shot me! I can't believe you shot me you-"

"It's a fake," the demon said effectively cutting her off.

Forgetting her injury, Meg slowly turned to glare at John dangerously. "You're dead, John. Your sons are dead. And your grandkids are dead. I'm gonna start with them, and make you and your boys watch as I peel the soft skin back from their baby faces. And then I'm gonna kill your boys, still making you watch.

"And then _you._ Oh you and I are gonna have some real fun, Johnny."

Seeing Meg was no longer playing around, he slowly began to back up. "I've never used the gun. How could I know it wouldn't work?"

"I'm _so_ not in the mood for this. I've just been shot."

"Well, then I guess you're lucky the gun wasn't real."

Meg gave a dangerous, half smirk. "That's funny, John. We're gonna peel the soft skin back from Cara and Noah's baby faces, but that was good."

The sound of the other demon throwing the gun into the darkness distracted Meg for a moment. Using the opportunity, John took off, running towards a room. Meg and the other demon were quickly behind him, shoving the door open, to see John trapped on the other side of the room.

"You trapped yourself like a rat, John," Meg taunted, stepping into the room.

Without responding, John turned a valve on his side of the room, and water from the floor and ceiling shot up into the room. Immediately, Meg and the other demon were drenched in holy water, their skin smoking like meat on a barbecue.

Using the opportunity to escape the room, Meg, writhing on the ground, called after him, "You're dead, John!"

"Tom!" Meg called to the other demon, who had recovered much more quickly than her, was now staggering to his feet. "Get him. _Now,"_ she commanded, dragging herself out of the blast zone.

Without a word, Tom took off after the eldest Winchester.

It didn't take long for Tom to find the hunter, who was hunched over the slashed tires of his car, swearing lowly.

And then, immediately, as if sensing someone behind him, John slowly let himself stand and turn around to see the large demon standing there, his skill still red and flaky.

Just as John is about to reach for a canister of salt in his pocket, the demon shot forward and threw the man against the wall, effectively rendering him unconscious.

* * *

Sam was contemplating calling Dean and his father when the radio on the car started suddenly changing frequencies, the dashboard flashing.

"It's coming," Sam whispered to himself.

Immediately, he had grabbed the Colt and was running towards the house. Not even thinking of being subtle, Sam kicked down the door, but was met by Monica's husband, swinging a baseball bat at his head.

Sam dodged the blow as the man told Sam to get out of his house.

From the top of the stairs, Monica's voice was heard. "Charlie, what's wrong?"

"Monica, get the baby!" Charlie grunted attempting to hit Sam again, and missing once again.

"No! Don't go in the nursery!" Sam yelled after Monica, dodging another hit. "I don't have time for this," Sam growled. Grabbing the bat from Charlie, Sam apologized, before hitting the man over the head, knocking him out.

Dropping the weapon, Sam ran up the stairs. "Monica! Monica, don't go in there!"

But it was too late.

When he reached the room, Monica was shoved up against the wall, screaming for Rosie, a dark figure slowly moving to stand over the crib.

Not even thinking, Sam aimed and fired the Colt at the demon, only to have it evaporate like smoke.

 _What?_

Before Sam could even process what was happening, a fire erupted on the ceiling of the room, over the crib. Freed from the wall, Monica was running towards Rosie's bed, only to have Sam grab her and pull her back from the growing inferno.

"My baby! My baby!" Monica wailed, attempting to get out of Sam's grips.

"Wait, just wait!" Sam yelled, shoving her back against the doorframe. Running forward, he leaned over the crib and feeling the heat of the licking flames on his back, grabbed the crying baby, shoving her into Monica's arms.

"Go!" He yelled, shoving Monica in front of her as the fire began to spread across the room.

The two ran down the stairs, and Monica, seeing Charlie unconscious began to panic, leaning over his body, while Rosie cried and cried and cried in her arms.

Hearing the ceiling above them begin to pop, Sam followed the cracks in plaster to the top of the stairs, where a dark figure stood, absolutely still.

Teeth grinding, he began to advance towards the staircase, cocking the gun.

And just as he placed one foot on the first step, there was a loud explosion from upstairs, all the windows blowing out.

Monica's screams growing louder caused Sam to turn and look at her.

Seeing her, in a white nightgown, hair falling over her face, Rosie wrapped tightly in one arm, screaming, while Monica's other hand was placed on Charlie's face, trying to wake him up.

Glancing up at the dark figure one last time, Sam let out a growl of frustration. _I'll be back for you, you bastard,_ he thought.

With that, Sam turned from the staircase and shoved Monica towards the front door. Grunting, he threw Charlie over his shoulder, and told her to run as more explosions could be heard from upstairs. And just as the group crossed the threshold to the lawn, there was one final explosion, the whole house going up in flames, the demon mockingly watching them from the window.

* * *

Sam had managed to sneak away before the firemen and paramedics showed up. He convinced Monica and Charlie not to say anything to them, Monica who was thanking him profusely for saving them, while her husband was confused as to what was going on.

Back at the motel room, he ended up trashing the whole place, out of pure anger. He had been _so_ close. And the first time, he couldn't get itk, the demon was there, _mocking_ him, as if it were daring him to try again. Sam was convinced that when he stepped on that staircase, that he wasn't gonna come back down, and he was okay with that. He would've gladly sacrificed himself to stop that bastard. That _monster_ that had killed his mother and girlfriend.

But then...hearing Monica scream for help, and seeing her tiny family huddled together and defenseless, the realization that if he didn't help them, they were going to die, Sam jumped into action. Because if he had sacrificed himself but they still died in the fire, what would've been the point?

"FUCK!" Sam yelled loudly, in anger.

Suddenly, his phone started buzzed loudly on the nightstand. Picking it up, he saw it was his father. Feeling a bit of relief, he brought the phone do his ear. "Dad?"

"Try again."

The pressure of the room dropped as he recognized the voice.

" _Meg."_

"You really screwed up, Sammy."

"Where is he?" Immediately he knew something bad had happened to his father for her to have John's phone.

"You're never gonna see your father again. Tell your brother, too."

The line went dead.

Throwing his phone against the wall and watching it shatter, Sam slammed the motel door room behind him, feeling the vengeance in his heart burn brighter than the fire in that house.

* * *

 **The Next Morning**

* * *

He was hunched over his desk, head laid against the cool surface. It was math class, first thing in the morning, but Noah was bored, waiting for everyone else to finish. His teacher had told him to wait quietly, and he was on the verge of passing out, hardly sleeping again last night.

The sound of the intercom beeping only slightly pulled him from his tired state.

"Miss Jeffries?"

The young teacher, a woman in her mid twenties, looked up from her desk. "Yes?"

"Could you please send Noah Mercer to the office? He's being signed out by his father."

Head snapping up halfway, he watched his teacher motion for him to go.

Feeling like he was in a haze, Noah pushed his chair in, placed everything in his desk, and grabbed his backpack from the hook in the closet.

 _Dad_ was signing him out? This _had_ to be a dream. There were no instances in which he could ever imagine his father having to sign him out.

He was halfway down the hallway, sliding past the fifth grade classrooms, when Cara suddenly called his name, and grabbed onto his shoulder, bursting from her own room.

"Why is Dad calling us out? Something is wrong," Cara insisted.

Turning to her, Noah shrugged. "I don't know. But it _is_ weird."

Doing little to reassure her, Cara practically dragged Noah down to the office, where they saw Dean Winchester waiting in the entrance of the school.

He seemed so out of place, in his usual leather jacket, jeans, and workboots. He seemed particularly fidgety and didn't notice right away when Cara and Noah had turned the corner.

But once they appeared and Dean saw them, he didn't hesitate to run forward and grab the two into hugs.

The two were taken off guard by the immediate display of affection but reciprocated the motion, both feeling more anxious and offput by the hug, than reassured.

"What's going on?" Cara asked, remaining on her high of worry and suspicion.

Pulling back, Dean didn't even try to arrange his face into something comforting. He was too relieved to see they were okay just then, but also worried the demons could descend any moment. Thinking of that, he glanced into the office at the secretary in a polka dot top and cat's eye glasses, wondering if she was a demon in vague paranoia.

"Dad?" Noah asked, trying to get a look at his father's face. However, Dean didn't acknowledge their questions. Instead, he knelt down in front of them and forced both of them to look him in the eyes. "Are you two okay?"

They nodded slowly. "What's happening?" Cara asked, beginning to worry.

Standing up quickly, Dean looked around, just to be sure. "I'll tell you in the car. We have to go. _Now."_

He didn't give either of them a chance to say anything, instead grabbing each of them by a hand, dragging them out of the school.

* * *

Arching her back in the worn down swivel chair, Alice tapped her foot on the shiny tile ground. Staring unblinkingly at the screen, she momentarily forgot that she was at work, charting patient progress.

There was so much on her mind, she found it hard to focus at work, lately. She had gotten several phone calls from Noah's teacher that he had regularly been falling asleep during class, and Alice was on the verge of taking him to the doctor, as he had never have trouble falling asleep _ever._ And according to the teacher, when he wasn't sleeping, he was belligerent and blatantly disrespectful. She didn't know what was going on with her son, but she was sure it had something to do with his shitty, unstable family life.

And then there was the whole matter of Dean. Every phone call she had with him seemed to be more fleeting and cryptic, like he was withholding information, or just downright lying. She knew he didn't want her to worry, but she couldn't decide if being kept in the dark or being informed gave her more peace of mind.

Either way, she would still worry. It seemed the more time that passed and he still hadn't come to visit made her wonder what he was doing. Was he burning another body, shooting another bullet from his shining gun?

A hand appeared at her shoulder.

Jumping, Alice felt herself spinning around, to see the unit secretary retracting her hand in surprise. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. There's a call for you. Line two."

Feeling her shoulders drop, Alice sighed. If it was the school again…

"Okay, thanks Miranda."

With a smile, Miranda nodded and walked back to her desk.

Turning back to the desk, Alice picked up the corded phone and proceeded with the call.

"Hello, this is Alice Mercer," she said, a bit distractedly, squinting at the screen, frowning at a typo she'd made.

"Allie."

Immediately knowing who it was, Alice leaned a bit closer to the phone, as if that would make hearing him easier.

"Dean? What's going on?"

"You need to listen to me carefully." His voice was urgent, rough, and harsh.

"What's happening?" Alice found herself asking in a small voice.

"The demon that came after Sammy as a baby is back."

"Oh my God." Nearly dropping the phone, Alice felt her joints begin to lock. "It's back?"

"Allie, I need you to go to Jan's house. Right now," Dean instructed.

A bit confused by the command, Alice sat back in the chair. "Why?"

"Because you're in danger. There are other demons working for that yellow eyed bastard and some of them threatened you."

"What…"

"They said they'd kill the kids, Allie. They threatened to do it in front of me."

Like receiving an adrenaline shot to the heart, the young mother had bolted up from her chair, sending it flying backwards, and scaring the shit out of everyone else at the nurses' station. "Oh my God oh my God oh my God. Where are they, Dean? I have to get them I had to make sure they're okay I-"

"I just picked them up from school. We're on our way to Jan's right now."

Hearing the kids were with Dean did wonders to make her more coherent. "You got them? Oh thank God."

"I got them. We're good for now. But Allie, you have to leave _now._ I have no idea where the demons are, but I know they're close."

Grabbing her purse, Alice felt a chill run up and down her body. "Okay. I'm leaving now."

"Good. You've got holy water and salt in your car, right?"

"Yes."

"Alright, come _straight_ here. Okay? And _please_ be careful," Dean begged.

"I will, Dean. Love you. I'll see you soon."

Slamming the phone down, Alice ran out of there like a bat out of hell.

* * *

On the way to Jan's Cara and Noah had hounded Dean so bad for an answer that he screamed at them to be quiet and not ask any more questions, after they wouldn't accept the answer that someone from work had threatened his family.

Normally, he felt bad at yelling at them, but right now, he was too in his own head to even think about that. It was only a small comfort that they were with him right then, because they were in peril danger, but he didn't know exactly what the enemy looked like. Yellow Eyes was in Salvation, and Meg was in Lincoln. Perhaps coming after Cara and Noah was just a bluff, but it drove Dean _crazy_ that she would dare even mention them. And the fact she had a picture of their house…

Well, Dean wasn't taking any chances.

Like John, it had taken Dean years to figure out family was stronger together.

And now that he knew that, well, he never wanted to let the kids or Alice out of his sight again.

When they pulled up to Jan's house, she was leaning against the front porch. As usual, she had a cheerful greeting for the kids, who gave her half hearted responses. Not only were they yelled at by their father, but now they were being forced to stay with their weird aunt.

"Alright, well good to see you guys too," Jan chuckled, as they gave her sad hugs. "Why don't you two go upstairs while I talk to your Dad?"

"Sure," Cara responded quietly, leading the way into the house. Noah meekly shut the door behind them, leaving Dean and Jan alone.

She scoffed. "One day those kids will like me," Jan vowed, smirking at the door.

"It's not you, I yelled at them pretty bad in the car. I didn't know how to answer their questions."

She shrugged. "Sometimes parents don't have all the answers. It's one of the toughest jobs there is. And sometimes yelling is the best way to handle them."

Dean scoffed. "Sometimes I think hunting is easier. More black and white, you know?"

"It's not as black and white as you'd think." With a sigh, Jan reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She put a cigarette between her lips and lit it, taking a deep breath.

"I didn't know you smoked."

Jan gave him the side eye. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Winchester." She glanced at him and then relinquished a bit of information. "I only smoke when I'm stressed."

"You must never be stressed then," Dean joked, trying to make _something_ lighthearted.

"Nah. I'm just good at hiding it."

Effectively feeling worse than before, Dean nodded, but remained silent. Jan always seemed to cool and collected, and although she wasn't viscerally losing it like he was, it was obvious she was not as at ease as she usually was. And although the shift was subtle, it made Dean feel even more uncomfortable.

"I should go check on them," Dean said, about to get up.

Jan held a hand out to stop him. "As long as they stay in that house, they're safe. I reckon the Devil himself couldn't pass through that door. And from the looks of them, it doesn't seem like they're leaving their rooms anytime soon. Just take a breath. It looks like you could use one."

Nodding, but not agreeing, Dean leaned back against the railing, hoping to appease her.

Studying him carefully, Jan flicked some ashes of the cigarette over the side of the railing. "I don't think I've ever seen you this spooked before."

Dean thought about when Cara and Noah had almost drowned, and then the Screaming Angels case he had worked with Jan. "This demon makes the rest of that stuff look like child's play," he explained, referring to the previous stints.

"He's not gonna touch them," Jan assured. "Alice or the kids. The bastard would have to kill me and then burn my body because I'd come back as a vengeful spirit and kick his ass all over the ether if I have to."

"Thanks, Jan. It means a lot. Really, I appreciate you doing this. There aren't very many people I'd trust too-"

"Save the dying man's speech for your deathbed, Winchester." Straightening up, Jan tossed the cigarette aside. "Alice's here."

The sound of a the rusty gate moving was accompanied by the sight of Alice, in her light blue scrubs, running up the sidewalk. Not even saying a word to him, Alice threw herself in Dean's arms, and clung to him tightly, shaking like she didn't know what.

Feeling himself begin to relax for the first time, Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Alice, one cradling the back of her head. Breathing in her scent, he let it fill him with peace and clarity. She had an amazing ability to focus and ground him, even when his world was tailspinning out of control. She was his home, and it gave him purpose and a reason to keep going, no matter how shitty and dark things got. And right then, they were as black as the night.

* * *

It wasn't even an hour later, with Jan, Alice, and Dean all on the first floor of the house, triple checking the demon wards. Although Jan was confident everything was secure, Dean's paranoia had caused them to scan everything several times.

While bent in front of the from door, Dean was checking the salt lines, when a loud pounding on the other side suddenly scared him into a standing position. Immediately reaching for his gun, Jan and Alice were beside him in a second, both with their own weapons pointed at the door, Alice a little more unsure.

The pounding didn't stop, and eventually Jan pulled the door open, weapon in the person's face.

" _Sam?"_ Dean demanded.

Not even reacting to the weapon in his face, Sam, panicked shoved his way into the house. "Dean, we have to go."

"What?" The older brother asked

"They have Dad."

* * *

 **Yay, we're finally at the finale! Stay buckled in, it's gonna be a wild ride!**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **V.**


	28. In the Dark of the Night

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight: In the Dark of the Night**

* * *

Everyone had a breaking point. Some people's points were as shallow as a dried up lake, while others had ones as bottomless as a canyon.

And through all the shit Dean had seen in his life, he wondered when he would reach his final straw. Every time something worse than he had ever faced forced him to question his stability. With every close call and horrifying moment, he wondered, _this is it; anymore and I'll break._

But he never did, each time wondering when his luck would run out.

Again, he wondered if this would be it.

"What do you mean they have dad?" Dean asked his newly appeared brother, who had shoved his way into the house, standing in the foyer like he had no intention to make himself comfortable. Dean couldn't seem to comprehend what was going on. From finding out the yellow-eyed demon was back, to Meg targeting his kids, to the three Winchester men going their own way, everything had felt like the most elaborate, cruelest joke ever.

"Meg has Dad. The deal went south. It was a trap like you said," Sam explained, focusing intently on Dean, not aware of the two women off to the side, watching the intense exchange.

"Wait...but what about the demon?" Dean queried, trying to make sense of it all.

Sam paused for a second, extremely upset. "I missed."

Dean looked even more confused, as if the comment didn't register with him. He had been so wrapped up in keeping the kids and Alice safe, it hadn't even occurred to him that it was a possibility for that demonic bastard to still be alive.

Sam ground his teeth in frustration, watching Dean trying to process what he had said. Sam was wondering if he should've gone after the bastard, and hoped Monica and her family would get themselves out of the house. _This_ had been his fight. He was the one who'd lost a mother and the love of his life. He'd arguably been the most invested in killing the damn thing. But because he couldn't pull the trigger fast enough, everything that had been building up to the moment shattered in an anticlimactic display. And now, because of that, there was one less bullet in the Colt, their Dad was gone, and the demon was still alive, even more pissed off than ever, and coming after the most vulnerable people in his family.

"You _missed?"_ Dean said, unaware of how accusing he sounded.

"It disappeared before I could see it again-Dean that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Dad back. And we have to go. _Now."_

Sam yelled Dean's name when he didn't respond fast enough. "Dean! Are you hearing me, man? They have Dad!" Sam snapped impatient fingers in front of Dean's face, shaking him.

Maybe his breaking point was as expansive as the cosmos, because Dean felt like he was free falling through the atmosphere, burning up, and crashing to earth, but mind blank, like he was still disillusioned that he could do this, and hang in there. There was the muffled sound of someone yelling his name in the background.

"Snap out of it! I need you focused here!" Sam demanded, beginning to lose his semblance of strength. It was hard enough to try-and fail-to take down the demon by himself, but he didn't know how much more he could take by himself. He needed his big brother by his side.

Seeing how desperate the situation was, and how Sam was growing more and more frantic to Dean's lack of response, Alice instinctively acted. Pushing Sam to the side, she gripped Dean tightly on either side of his face, turning his head so he looked at her with a void gaze.

Not saying anything, she urgently leaned forward, placing her lips against his. For a few seconds, he was unresponsive, but then, the air was sucked out of her lungs as Dean gasped to reality, lips animating and moving against hers. Coming back to life, one of his arms wound around her waist, suturing her to him, while the other hand tangled itself in her hair, anchoring their lips together.

Alice's heart began to go crazy. The last person she kissed had been a drunk, grieving man in a bar, one whose death was inevitably her fault. And the kiss had been bitter, fueled by anger and resentment on her end.

She couldn't even think about the last time she'd even kissed Dean, let alone like _this._

It was the allegorical kind of kiss in which the setting around them fell away into darkness, where sounds were suspended and the motion of the world ceased. This _this_ was the kind of kiss that could erase months of doubt and pain and separation with the sheer desperateness and magnitude of emotions that powered the intimate interaction.

And when it ended, it was like coming down from the perfect high, blood still buzzing with electricity.

When they finally separated, the two stared at each other for a few seconds, letting the ambient noise of the old house return them to the present.

Just as she initiated the kiss, Alice removed her hands from his face and let them grab his hands. "You do what you need to do and I'll be here when you get back," she said lowly, with steadiness she didn't know she possessed.

Backpedaling, Dean's hands released from Alice's as he went to retrieve his jacket hung over the railing of the stairs. For a moment, he looked up them the steps, aching to say goodbye to Cara and Noah.

"There's no need to say goodbye. Hurry up before they realize you're gone," Jan commanded, noticing his gaze up the stairs.

Now all business, focused and level-headed, Dean turned to the older woman and nodded. "Take care of them."

She nodded once. "You know I will."

Dean turned to Sam, jingling the keys. "Let's make these bastards regret ever deciding to mess with the Winchesters."

* * *

Noah had been the one to hear the rumble of the Impala. Just as it was about to drive away, he had peeked out the window, catching a glimpse of Dad and Uncle Sam- _when had he gotten there?_ -shooting off down the street like a bullet.

That final sight hadn't sat right with him. He'd been on edge from the lack of sleep he'd been getting, that was coupled with a general sense of unease. And ever since Dad had picked them up from school and dumped them in Chicago, that only raised the half masted red flags Noah already had.

Going across the hall to the room that used to be Cara's when they still lived there, Noah knocked once, before opening the door, to find his sister, laid flat on the bed, a book in her extended arms, although it was pretty obvious from her glazed over expression she wasn't actually reading anything.

"Dad left again," Noah said.

"What a shock," Cara intoned monotonously. She was getting _really_ tired of her dad leaving all the time with no explanation. Because each time, it didn't get any easier.

Noticing the lack of empathy in his sister's voice, Noah came further into the room. "Something's wrong. I've had a weird feeling for awhile-"

Cara rolled up to a sitting position, carelessly tossing the book to the side. " _Of course_ there's something wrong. They're all acting off."

Noah was shaking his head. "No. You don't understand. I've had a really bad feeling for a while now that-"

"Yeah, so have I," Cara said dismissively, not listening to what he was _really_ trying to say. "But it doesn't matter, because they're not gonna tell us anything anyways," she said, bitterly.

"Something bad is gonna happen," Noah tried again, perhaps a little more direct this time.

Still blinded by her own anger, Cara gave her little brother a patronizing look. "Yeah, eventually, probably."

"No, like, _soon,"_ Noah insisted.

Perhaps if Cara was a little more clear minded, she would have been more perceptive to Noah's statement, but she was too upset by the whole situation. "You know he left without saying goodbye."

"What?"

"Dad. He didn't say anything. Just took off."

"Because there's something wrong-"

"The _last_ time there was something wrong, he wasn't gonna come back. Don't you get that Noah? Don't you remember what happened the last time Dad left without saying bye to you?"

"Dad's coming back," Noah argued, finally catching onto what she was saying.

She scoffed. "You know, at some point, he's not gonna come back. For good." She didn't know whether or not that would be on his own volition or if he would be prevented to stay away by some outside force. Before they had gotten yelled at by him, all Dad had said was that someone from work had threatened their family. She knew there was so much more to the story, and she was fed up with being kept in the dark.

"Don't say that," Noah said.

"Why not? Huh? We're gonna get to a point where we're never gonna see our dad again!"

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Noah screamed, veins in his neck bulging. "He's not gonna die. Stop acting like he's already dead!"

"You're the one who said you had a bad feeling about this," Cara countered.

"That doesn't mean he's gonna die," Noah snapped back, voice hoarse.

Starting to bite her nail, Cara scooted back towards the head of the bed, so her back was resting against the pillows. "I can't do this anymore. Every time he leaves...it just takes a part of me with him. I hate not knowing when he's gonna come back, or if he even is at all." It was some heavy stuff for a ten year old to be admitting, and even though neither of them knew the entirety of the entire situation, they still felt the weight of it all on their shoulders. All her frustrations and anger had boiled over, into the first tangible explanation of how she had always felt, but had never been able to put into words.

Diffusing a bit, Noah sat on the edge of the bed. "He's _gotta_ come back. Dad's like Batman." Usually, Noah was the one to comfort Cara that their father would come back, but this time, it felt like he was trying convince himself more.

* * *

"He'll be back."

Removing her hand, causing the curtain to fall back to it's original position, Alice turned to look at her aunt. The younger woman had been dazing by the front window, staring out it for nearly an hour. Sighing, Alice shifted herself so she was facing Jan, who had taken a seat across the room. "I know...but this time feels different."

Jan sighed. "Everything's gonna be fine."

Alice nodded, getting really tired of hearing that, even though she had said it several times as well. "Right of course. But...I just wish that he'd _stay_." Jan definitely caught the heavy implications on the word. She knew what it meant. She knew how much Alice hated it when Dean left.

And because of that, Alice wanted to Dean stay long-term. Forever. She always had.

Shrugging, the older woman leaned forward. "Does he know that?"

Fumbling for her words, Alice quickly wished she hadn't said what she had, seeing Jan caught what she meant. "I can't make him choose between me and his brother and father."

"It's not choosing between you and them. It's choosing between family and hunting."

Alice frowned. "Fine. I can't make him choose between those two things. But especially because the two are already so embedded. I'm not gonna make him leave his life for me," Alice said.

Jan crossed her arms. "Why not?"

The answer seemed so obvious to Jan, until she opened her mouth to explain it. "Because...his family needs him."

Leaning back, Jan shook her head at the blue-tinted lenses Alice was looking through. " _You're_ his family too, Allie. You two have _children_ together."

Alice nodded, but stared at her blankly.

Shaking her head, Jan decided to change tactics. "How about this? When it's all said and done, and John is safe and the demon is dead, what if you told Dean how you really felt?"

Turning her head, Alice scoffed, finding her gaze drifting towards the front window again. "No. I wouldn't do that do him."

"And why not?"

Growing exasperated, Alice threw her hands out in front of her. "Because it's selfish of me!" Alice watched her aunt for a moment. "Stop shaking your head!"

"Alice, you gave up your childhood to my witch of a sister-"

"Aunt Jan."

"-and your teenage years and twenties to your kids."

Alice sighed. "What are you trying to say?"

"You've given up _everything._ Your entire life has been filled with decisions made for you by others and things outside of your control. Your life has been whatever the universe dictated it would be. And you went along with it. Don't get me wrong-it's not because you're passive or weak, Alice, it's because you care so deeply about the others around you. But, because of that, you think it's selfish to take care of yourself.

"It's not a crime to have wants and needs, Alice."

Alice watched her aunt quietly. "But the kids…"

"You're an amazing mother, Alice. And kids are tougher than you think."

Alice chewed on her tongue in hesitant contemplation.

"You need to tell him how you really feel," Jan said. "Because, things aren't gonna stay like this forever. You've got one life, Alice, and if you don't tell him, you're gonna regret it the rest of your days."

There had been a bit of resistance when Jan initially started talking, but now, Alice watched her aunt. She knew the older woman was speaking from experience.

"Take control of your life, Alice. Stop waiting and and hoping for the pieces to fall in the right places. _Make_ them fall in the right places, because if you don't, someone else or _something_ else will put 'em wherever the hell they want.

"I don't know how much more I can tell you without feeling like I'm talking in circles to a wall. There's only so much I can say. You've gotta do the rest, girl. And I know you can."

Standing up, Jan winced as her joints protested from the change in position. "I'm gonna go check the wardings."

And with that, Jan left Alice alone with her thoughts.

* * *

When the brothers finally admitted they needed help finding their Dad, they had driven to Bobby's, even though they knew they were already racing against the clock. And as if knowing exactly where they were gonna be, Meg showed up at Bobby's, only a couple minutes behind them.

But like a Christmas present, Meg had walked right into their trap, their devil's trap to be more accurate.

Making one final knot on her ankle, to the chair she was tied to, Dean stepped out of the trap so he was in line with Sam and Bobby, all three men glaring at the demon in hatred.

Smirking dangerously, Meg wriggled a bit in the bonds nodding towards Dean. "Mmm. Nice and tight. I bet that's the way Alice likes it. The quiet, mousy church girls are always the biggest freaks."

"Shut up," Dean growled dangerously, grabbing a bottle of holy water from the table around him.

She shrugged. "I'm just saying, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask."

"Where's our father, Meg?" Dean asked again, holding up the bottle.

She scoffed a the bottle. "You didn't ask very nice," she cooed in a baby voice.

"Where's our father, _bitch?"_

"You kiss Alice with that mouth? Probably not for much longer…"

Feeling a protective streak of anger run through him, Dean lunged forward and placed hands on either arm of the chair, getting up in the demon's face. " _You think this is a game?!_ Where is he?! What did you do to him?!"

Meg leaned her head forward, mouth opening seductively, like she was about to tell him a dirty secret. "He died screaming. I killed him myself."

With a murderous look on his face, Dean reacted by slapping her harshly across the face.

Neck cracking at the force of the hit, Meg spit some blood out of her mouth. "That's kind of a turn on, you hitting a girl. I bet that gets Alice hot too. It's sure doing wonders for me."

In a flash, Dean grabbed the Colt that was on the table behind him, and cocked the gun, aiming it at Meg's head.

"Dean." Bobby shoved Dean's arm down and indicated him to follow into the next room.

Glaring at Meg for a moment, Dean then turned away from her self-satisfied face and followed Bobby and his brother.

"You okay?" Sam asked quietly, to his brother, once they were out of earshot by the demon.

Grinding his teeth together, Dean looked down at the ground. "She's lying. He's not dead."

"No one's gonna touch Alice or the kids," Sam assured, seeing what else was bothering Dean, besides their missing father. Demons knew exactly how to get under someone's skin, and for Dean, that was Alice and their kids.

"Dean, you gotta be careful with her. Don't hurt her," Bobby said.

Looking at the older man in disbelief, Dean asked why. After all, she was just a monster.

Bobby proceeded to explain that Meg wasn't just a demon, but a demon possessing some poor, innocent girl. Upon hearing that news, the trio decided an exorcism was the best course of action, to hopefully get the demon out and some news about where John was.

The tug of war was on, but as Sam began to perform the exorcism, Meg lost her superior, smug edge and slowly began to beg and plead, eventually giving away the information they needed. The demon revealed that John Winchester was still alive.

And just as Sam finished the exorcism, with Dean screaming for the location of their father, the black smoke erupted from the broken girl's mouth, and the empty vessel slumped forward, sweat beading and blood dripping down the girl's face.

Bobby quickly untied her, yelling for blankets and water, for the girl laboring to breathe, as he laid her down on the ground.

"A year," she wheezed.

"What?" Sam asked, leaning over her body.

"It's been a year."

"Shh, just take it easy," Sam encouraged, watching how much of a strain it was for her to even talk.

"Was it telling the truth about our Dad?" Dean cut in. He knew that now it was just a girl, but he still saw the demon that had threatened and hurt those he cared about the most.

"Dean," Sam chastised, turning his head at his brother's insensitivity.

"We need to know."

Turning her head, Meg's eyes were barely open, indicating she couldn't see much around her. "Yes. But _it_ wants you...to know...that they want you to come for it," she managed hoarsely. It sounded like she was drowning in her own lungs.

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters," Dean said resolutely, in stark contrast with the doubtful block of ice he'd been in Jan's living room.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. It was his fault the demon had gotten away in the first place, and he wasn't about to let it happen twice.

"Not here. Other ones. Awful ones," the girl mumbled, coherency starting to leave her body.

"Where are they keeping our dad?" Dean asked, with a little more force.

"By the river. Sunrise," the girl managed, voice barely above a whisper.

And just as Dean turned to ask her, he saw the flatness in her eyes and knew that she was dead.

* * *

The house was dark, and silent, save for the various creaks from the age of the place. Breathing quietly, Cara placed one toe, and then a whole foot on the first step, wincing as the entire staircase groaned like it was about to collapse into a pile of sawdust.

She tried to distribute her weight as lightly as she could, trying to step on the outer sides of the steps as carefully as possible. And the creaks only got worse at the bottom of the steps, including the floor that felt like it was about to cave in right at the base of the staircase.

Refraining from cursing under her breath, Cara quietly tiptoed across the foyer to the front window, where she pulled the curtain aside, trying to peek out.

"What are you doing up?"

Gasping in fear, Cara jumped, causing the entire floor to creak, as she spun, pressing herself against the wall, at the unexpected voice.

There was a click of the lamp, and Jan, who was sitting in the dark, leaned forward.

"You scared me," Cara whispered, breath still shaky.

"It's late. You should be sleeping," Jan repeated.

Stepping away from the window, Cara tried to not look guilty. "I was just getting a glass of water."

Rising from the plastic-covered lounger, Jan indicated to the kitchen. "I could use a drink too. Come on, then." She disappeared first into the kitchen.

Realizing she had no other choice, Cara huffed and reluctantly followed her aunt into the kitchen.

Flicking on the lights, Jan grabbed two mugs from the cabinet and plopped them down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Slowly, Cara made her way to the countertop, where she pulled out a stool and sat down.

"I haven't seen much of you or your brother," Jam commented as she rummaged through the fridge. "What do you want to drink?"

"Uh water's fine, thanks."

"And the first point?" Jan asked, as she went to the sink to fill up Cara's mug.

Cara just shrugged. She didn't know what she was supposed to say to that. Yeah, she and Noah had been holed upstairs for most of the time they'd been there, but could anyone blame them? They had been yelled at by their father, who hardly ever did, and saw their mother and aunt both acting like someone was gonna jump out from behind a door and scare them.

Jan studied the young girl. "I know you're curious as hell about what's going on. Why you're here."

"Doesn't matter. Not like anyone's gonna tell me anyways," Cara mumbled, shoving her face into her arms.

Leaning against the other side of the counter, Jan sighed. She could tell how difficult it was for them. Alice and Dean both thought that keeping them in the dark was better, and maybe it was, but Jan couldn't help but wonder. "You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age," Jan said.

Cara frowned, but lifted her head up a bit.

Jan smirked at how Cara thought of that as a bit of an insult. "I hated authority. Did the opposite of whatever I was told to do. Thought I knew what I was doing.

"You're like that, Cara. You hate being told what to do. You're independent and wish everyone else would see that too. Understandable."

Jan pondered for a moment. "You know, there's two types of people in the world."

"What are they?" Cara asked, now a bit intrigued.

"Now, this is just my own personal theory, but I think that there are people that hated being a kid and love being an adult or hate being an adult and miss being a kid. For me, I was the first kind. I _hated_ being a kid. It sucked."

Cara's mouth dropped open at that. _Never_ had an adult told her they hated their childhood, even her own parents. She just assumed all adults have been perfectly well-adjusted and had always loved every stage of their lives, even if the situation was less than ideal. She had always believed she was alone in her thoughts. Cara thought _she_ was the exception, the anomaly. Because, from what she understood, her parent's childhoods hadn't been great, but she had never heard them complain about it. So, the conclusion she came to, was that even though her life was pretty good, there was something wrong with her. Because, Noah _loved_ being a kid. He was always happy and content while Cara never was.

Jan watched her great niece carefully, knowing exactly how the little girl felt. She could tell how frustrated it made Cara to be kept behind a glass wall, not able to understand why people didn't see her the way she saw herself. And although the way Cara saw herself and how others saw her did not line up, Jan knew how it felt to be stuck, how powerless she had felt, having her choices made by others.

And she wished she could tell Cara the feeling went away, but she couldn't.

"I know you feel angry, Cara. But, you've still got your whole life ahead of you. Just please don't let your frustration make you bitter." If there was one truth Jan lived by, it was that she was not bitter. She had made peace with every stupid decision, every wrong choice. Although their effects and consequences still hurt her, she knew that she wouldn't have been where she was now without them. As much as their ghosts still haunted her, she would not forget them, but she saw them now as harmless shadows as opposed to malignant spirits.

Cara nodded slowly, seeming to take in Jan's words. And for the first time, Cara wondered if her perception of her Aunt Jan had always been unfair. For he entire life, Cara saw the older woman as a strange, oblivious old lady who's carefree attitude irritated the younger girl.

But it seemed that Cara had misjudged her aunt.

"For the record, I had thought your parents were best to keep you and your brother in the dark, but now...I'm not sure. Maybe you two are better off knowing the truth of what's going on.

"Now, it's not my place to tell you, but I'll vouch for you, Cara. Maybe I can convince your parents to tell you.

"Is that fair enough?"

A petulant part of Cara wanted Jan to tell her _now,_ but the girl recognized the olive branch that was being extended to her.

It was more than she thought she would ever get.

Cara nodded. "That sounds fair. Thank you."

Jan nodded. "Good. Because of that, I need you to do something for me."

Cara frowned. "What?"

"For whatever reason you came downstairs in the middle of the night, I'm kindly asking you to not do it."

She thought for a moment, but reluctantly, Cara nodded.

"Good. Then why don't you head up to bed?"

"Don't you want company?"

A bit surprised by the offer, Jan accepted, and the two made themselves comfortable, in the dark, old house, in the old dark world.

* * *

Meg's cryptic final words have led them to the Sunrise Apartments, which resided right by a river. The entire complex had been a gigantic demon barrier, and the brothers had barely gotten out unscathed. But what mattered was they had rescued their father, unconscious and severely battered, causing Sam and Dean to wonder what the demons had done to him, because it was fairly obvious it was more than beating him up: they had tortured him.

They had driven off the grid to an abandoned cabin nestled on the edge of a forest. After the sons had dragged their father into the building, they shut the door tightly, taking a moment finally take a breath.

"How is he?" Sam asked Dean, who was leaning over John, making sure he was still breathing.

"He just needed a little rest. That's all. How are you?" Dean asked, turning to Sam. They hadn't talked about his encounter with the yellow-eyed demon yet.

 _I wish I killed the damn thing._ "I'll survive. Hey uh, Dean. you uh, you saved my life back there." Sam was referring to the demon Dean had shot with the Colt, the one that had been the process of beating Sam to a pulp.

"It was nothing." Dean paused for a moment. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam glanced over his shoulder.

"You know the guy I shot? There was a person in there."

Sam sighed. "You didn't have a choice, Dean."

"Yeah...I know. But that's not what bothers me."

Sam frowned and moved closer to his brother. "Then what does?"

Dean began to shake his head. "Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn't hesitate, didn't even flinch. For your or Dad or Allie and God, Cara and Noah. The things I'm willing to do or kill it just...it scares me sometimes."

Before Sam was about to respond, there was a voice from the other side of the room. "It shouldn't. You did good."

Dean frowned. "You're not mad?"

Leaning across the doorway that led to the bedroom, John exerted himself to enter the rest of the room. "For what?"

"Using a bullet?" Dean asked, like it was obvious.

"Mad? I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you watch out for this family. You always have. You're a good brother and a good son. Good father, too."

"Thanks," Dean said slowly.

And just as Dean was about to ask if John was feeling okay, the lights suddenly started to flicker.

"It found us. It's here."

"The demon?" Sam asked.

"I think so," John said urgently. "Dean. You got the gun?"

The older son nodded.

"Give it to me," John held out his hand as Dean removed the gun from his jeans.

"Dad," Sam began. "I tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared."

"This is me. I won't miss." There was a crash of lightning outside. "Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door."

"I already did," Sam confirmed.

"Well check it, okay? We don't need this bastard getting in here."

"Okay." Sam disappeared to the other rooms, as Dean held the Colt in one hand, staring between it and his father.

"The gun, hurry," John demanded, shaking his outstretched hand.

Frowning, Dean stared at the antique gun, the only thing that could save their family.

"Son, please."

Shaking his head, Dean began to back up, as he realized something.

"Give me the gun. What are you doing, Dean?"

Still shaking his head, Dean began to explain his thoughts. "He'd be furious."

"What?" John asked, beginning to grow annoyed.

"That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me. He'd tear me a new one."

John stared at him wordlessly, watching as Dean pointed the gun at his face.

"You're not my Dad."

The standoff between the two felt endless, until Sam broke the tension and walked in to see his brother pointing a gun at his father. "Dean? What the hell's going on?"

"Your brother's lost his mind," John said.

"He's not Dad!"

"What?" Sam looked between the two, unsure who to believe.

"I think's he's possessed. I think he has been the entire time," Dean said, voice starting to vibrate from the wall of emotions he'd been holding back. _They just couldn't catching a fucking break._ All he needed was a second where everything was okay.

"Don't listen to him, Sammy," John commanded. Sam frowned imperceptibly at the use of the nickname. Dean was the only one who ever called him that. And their Dad _never_ did.

"Dean…how do you know?" Sam asked, watching the two carefully.

There was a sniffle and Sam looked at him, surprised. Dean was fighting back tears. "He's...he's different."

John sighed in aggravation, shifting impatiently against the gun pointed at him. "You know we don't have time for this. Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you gotta trust me."

Eyes shifting rapidly between his brother and father, Sam caught Dean's desperate glance. His brother didn't need to say anything for Sam to see the wild, terrified look in Dean's eyes, that Sam felt himself.

Slowly, Sam moved to stand behind his brother, pitting sons against father.

"Fine...if you're so sure, kill me. Pull the trigger." With a frown, John dejectedly hung his head.

Finger hovering over the trigger, Dean felt himself begin to shake, not able to actually fire the weapon.

The was a hush of silence as both brothers realized they couldn't shoot their father.

"I thought so," John replied in a gravelly tone; the cadence of his voice was different: wrong.

Both brothers frowned.

And when he looked up?

His eyes were yellow.

Just as the neurons began to fire messages to their muscles for the brothers to move, the yellow-eyed demon, wearing their father, flicked his wrist, sending the boys hurtling painfully back into the walls. The gun fell out of Dean's hand as he impacted the wall, lying innocently on the ground.

Sauntering over, Yellow Eyes bent down and picked up the gun, examining it with both hands. "What a pain in the ass this thing's been."

"It's you. Isn't it? We've been looking for you for a long time," Sam managed, struggling to unstick himself from the wall. But the invisible force that held him that ensured he could hardly even turn his head to the side. On the opposite wall, Dean was straining, glaring darkly at the demon.

"Well...you found me."

"But the holy water?" Sam asked.

Scoffing, the demon continued to turn the gun over and over in his hands. "You think something like that works on something like me? You've been out of the game too long, boy. That girl made you rusty."

Upon hearing the mention of Jess, Sam began to fight harder, face turning red in exertion. "I'm gonna kill you!" He shouted.

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact, here." Yellow Eyes placed the gun down on the table. "Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy." With a taunting smirk, the demon watched as Sam tried and failed to move the gun. "Hold onto that anger, Sammy. You're gonna need it."

Turning his attention to Dean, the yellow-eyed demon walked closer to him. "I could've killed you a hundred times today. But this was worth the wait. Your Dad? He's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says 'hi', by the way. Just wait. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

Dean's blood began to boil. "Let him go or I swear to God-"

Yellow Eyes cut him off. "What are you and God gonna do? You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"Meg?" Dean asked, feeling himself begin to pale.

"And the one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?"

Dean watched the demon carefully, glowering.

"You destroyed my children, Dean," the demon prompted. "How would you feel if I did the same to yours?"

"You son of a bitch I-"

"You should be grateful I haven't touched them yet. You see, as far as I'm concerned, possessing your father? This is just a reparation... _hardly_ justice for what you did to my family."

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean growled. As enraged as he was that the demon was talking about Cara and Noah, he couldn't believe the demon was here getting sentimental about some black eyed bitches.

"What?" The yellow-eyed demon demanded. "You're the only one that can have a family?"

"I wanna know why. Why'd you do it?" Sam interjected, trying to draw the attention away from Dean.

Yellow Eyes looked at Sam. "You mean why'd I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?"

"Yeah."

"You want to know why? Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what."

"My plans for you, Sammy. You...and all the children like you." The demon paused, and thought for a moment before grinning. "But...in case you were wondering, she would've said yes."

Sam frowned. "What?"

"Jess," Yellow Eyes deadpanned like it was obvious. "I knew you were shopping around for rings, finding the perfect moment to pop the question. She would've been ecstatic to marry you."

"How do you-"

With a sigh, the demon circled back to the table, admiring the Colt again. "I'll admit, when I killed your mom, it was all business. But with Jess...well...I let myself have a little fun."

"What did-"

"If you stop interrupting me, I'll tell you, Sammy."

Beginning to shake, Sam suddenly lost the ability to talk, as if a magical gag was now in place, silencing him just like the force that held him against the wall.

"Before I roasted her on the ceiling, just like your Daddy, I got up in her, and got to know her real well.

"What a great gal. Real genuine; one of the kindest hearts I've ever seen. I usually don't get enamored, but Sam, I can see why you liked her. You have a thing for blondes, I see.

"Really though; it's too bad. You could've had a great future with her."

Silent and pinned against the wall, tears were now streaming down Sam's cheeks as he screamed. The one person he had loved more than everything, he found out her death was even more horrific than he thought. Her last moments had been spent being inhabited by pure evil.

Sam was going to _obliterate_ the yellow-eyed demon.

Watching his brother in absolute anguish, Dean gritted his teeth and pulled against the supernatural restraints. _This_ was not how it was all going to end. For any of them.

"Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can't stand the monologuing," Dean said, sounding incredibly bitter.

Ignoring a still screaming and thrashing Sam, the demon raised an eyebrow. "Funny, but that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

Yellow Eyes sighed. "You know, you fight and you fight for this family and those Mercers, but the truth is, they don't need you, at least not Johnny Boy and Sam-who's clearly John's favorite, by the way. Even when they fight, it's more concern than your father's ever shown you.

"And as for your 'secret' family?" Yellow Eyes shrugged. "Well, with _you_ as their father, they're gonna end up at the bottom of a bottle before they learn to drive or in a wooden coffin before they graduate high school. That's just the way it's gonna be for them. Just be thankful I didn't burn their mother on ceiling like I did to yours."

"Well, I bet you're real proud of your kids too. Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted them," Dean hissed back with malice.

In retaliation, Yellow Eyes caused a giant slash to tear itself across Dean's chest, causing him to bleed profusely and painfully. He let out a torturous wail.

Suddenly finding his voice again, Sam began to call out for his brother, the tears falling faster down his face.

The noise levels in the room continued to escalate, as Dean, cringing in pain and breathing for life begged his father to spare him. Sam, from the other side, was yelling for his rapidly weakening brother.

The mixture of pleas from both sons triggered something inside John's head. Where the father had been slamming into the brick wall in his mind, the sounds of his children in pain had been enough to break down the wall, enough for him to regain control of his body.

When John was in control once again, both brothers dropped heavily to the floor, the impact knocking a barely conscious Dean out.

Coming back to reality, and seeing what he had done to them, John suddenly fell over, feeling the demon struggling to regain control, as it likely saw Sam grab the Colt and aim it at John.

Teeth gritting, chest rising in exertion, John tried to hold Yellow Eyes back. "You kill me, you kill Daddy,"

"I know," Sam whispered, teeth grinding against one another.

Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, shooting his father in the leg.

Immediately after, Sam dropped the gun and scurried over to Dean, who was stirring. Hands hovering over Dean's wound, unsure, Sam was at least a little bit relieved that Dean was still alive. "Dean? Dean. Hey. Oh God, you've lost a lot of blood."

"Where's Dad?" Dean managed breathlessly, ignoring Sam's worry for him.

"He's right here. He's right here, Dean," Sam reassured.

"Go check on him."

"Dean…"

Appeasing Dean at the repeat of his command, Sam went over to check on their father. John's eyes popped open. Teeth gritting like he was holding something back, his wild eyes locked with Sam's. "Sammy! It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!"

Shakily, Sam aimed the Colt at John's heart. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. He had missed the first time, but now the demon was trapped in a flesh vessel, motionless on the ground for him to shoot. He held the gun tighter in his hands.

"Sam, don't you do it. Don't you dare!" Dean yelled from behind, trying to drag himself towards them, like he could stop it when he couldn't even get off the ground.

A high pitched static began to buzz in Sam's ears, growing louder, like a plane passing overhead, but right beside his head. His vision began to blur from focusing too harshly on his father.

As Sam stood frozen with the gun, John suddenly began to choke, black smoke erupting from his mouth.

* * *

"Oh this is just ridiculous," Jan berated internally, shaking herself from the edge of sleep.

Standing up from a chair in the living room, Jan cursed herself for the uncomfortable furniture she had chosen for her house, even though she had nearly fallen asleep in it. Her back and hips cracked as she straightened out, feeling the weight of her eyelids.

It had been nearly two days since she'd gotten any sleep. Instead of being up in her bed, she'd been camped out in the living room, waiting for the ambush that would likely never come.

Still, Jan walked around the first floor, checking all the wardings once again. Then, as soon as she was done, she felt like a paranoid widow. This house was a fortress. Every piece of furniture and every surface in the house was covered in sigils and wardings from any and all religions and belief systems in history.

"They'll be fine. As long as they stay in the house. And you're no good to them dead on your feet," Jan muttered to herself, hand on the railing, one foot on the first step.

Deciding all she needed was two hours of sleep to get herself a little more alert, Jan slowly climbed the steps, feeling older than she ever had in her entire life.

* * *

Under the pitch black, net of stars, the only headlights on the lone highway were the Impala's.

Inside the car, Sam had the gas pedal pressed down all the way, as he squinted through one eye, trying to see the road. The other one had been swollen shut as he was being beaten by the demon that had almost killed him.

As they hit a pothole, John, in the passenger seat let out a sharp gasp.

Glancing at him in worry, Sam assured him the hospital was only a few more miles down the road.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Sam observed Dean, spread out in the backseat, completely unconscious.

John turned his head slightly to the side, so he was looking at Sam. He was so weak he couldn't even lift it from the headrest. "I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first. Before me. Before everything."

Eyebrows knitting together, Sam began to shake his head. "No sir. Not before everything." He sighed. "Look, we've still got the Colt. We've got one bullet left. We just have to start over. Right? I mean we already found the demon-"

Suddenly, headlights blinded Sam's vision as a gigantic truck suddenly crashed into the Impala, full speed.

* * *

"Ah!" Noah was launched so forcefully forward from his deep slumber, that he fell sideways off the bed, all while hearing the sounds of breaking glass and crunching metal in his ears.

Scared and confused, Noah huddled on the floor, back on the side of his bed, as he rocked back and forth, hands clamped over both ears, waiting for the sounds that had woken him up to fade. They did, but there was a lingering tinny that would not go away.

When he could properly think without the disturbing noises, Noah took several minutes to level his breathing, rising up after it was steadier. He went to stand in the middle of the room, and listened to the silence. It didn't seem like his abrupt wake up had disrupted anyone else's sleep.

"What the hell is happening to me?" He whispered to himself, looking around the dark room as if the answer would somehow be standing in the corner.

 _Actually, no thanks,_ Noah retracted his previous statement of wanting something to appear in his room. He guaranteed any little spook would be enough to send him into a breakdown.

There was a growing seed of lingering worry that Noah had been right.

That the thing bad thing he was worried about finally happened.

Slowly leaving the room, Noah trekked quietly down the hallway, trying to figure out what the sounds that woke him up meant.

Coming to the edge of the stairs, he looked down, and saw a dark figure at the bottom, standing in the dark. Instinctively tensing, he wanted to yell for his mom and Aunt Jan, but sighed a bit, when he realized it was just Cara. A bit miffed that she was creepily staring at the front door, Noah was about to call out, ask her what she was doing, but instead, he stayed where he was, frozen. Something in his mind was whispering at him to be still and to be quiet.

From the top of the stairs, Noah watched as Cara peered out the peephole of the door, unmoving. " _What?"_ Her voice was barely audible, but the utter bewilderment was clear as day. She strained on her tiptoes more, trying to get a better view.

A few anguishing moments passed, with neither sibling moving, Cara unaware Noah was watching her, and Noah unaware of what she was looking at.

And then, Cara quietly returned from tiptoe and took a step away from the door.

Eyes shutting in relief, thinking she was going back to bed, the feeling was short lived when he heard the sound of the lock clicking, and the knob turning.

When opened his eyes, Noah still was unable to move, and could only watch as Cara opened the door, and hesitantly peeked out the door, before stepping into the dark of the night.

* * *

 **There's only a few chapters remaining in Season One. Let me know in reviews or messages if you would prefer I keep this as one massive story, or if I should split it up into smaller ones. At this point, I am not sure what I am going to do, so let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks**

 **V.**


	29. The Day the Music Died

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Day the Music Died**

* * *

Catching himself on the door frame of the room, Sam had finally found his brother, who was bloodied and bruised, in a hospital bed, attached to various tubes and wires.

"Oh no," he intoned helplessly, listening to the soulless heart rate monitor, weakly beeping. They had been hit by a demon in a semi truck, and then airlifted to the nearest hospital, where the family had been separated. Only now, had Sam been discharged, that he finally found his brother.

"Your father's awake, you can see him if you like," a doctor said, entering the room, standing on the other side of the doorway, watching Sam carefully.

Relieved to hear John was alive and alright, Sam only allowed himself a moment of peace. "Doc...what about my brother?"

"Well...we won't know his full condition until he wakes up. _If_ he wakes up."

Sam paled. " _If?"_

The doctor nodded, steeling himself for what was going to be a difficult conversation. "I have to be honest, most people with his degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations." The doctor nodded to Sam. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you better news."

* * *

Just as the doctor said, John was in much better shape than Dean. He was propped up in bed, one arm in a sling. Although his face was battered and bruised, at least he was conscious. Reaching into his wallet, he handed Sam a card. "Here. Give 'em my insurance."

"Elroy McGillicutty?"

John smirked slightly. "And his two loving sons. So...what else did the doctor say about Dean."

Sam gave a small smile. "Nothing. Look, the doctors can't do anything. We had to do it. That's all. I'll find a hoodoo priest or something and lay some mojo on him."

John nodded. "We'll look for someone. But Sam?"

"What?"

John sighed. "I don't know if we're gonna find anyone."

Sam shook his head, refusing to even fantasize the notion that there wasn't anything out there that could save Dean.

Seeing Sam wasn't going to listen to him, John changed the subject. "I'll check under every stone Sam...where's the Colt?"

Outraged, Sam took a step towards the hospital bed. "Your son is _dying_ and you're worried about the damn Colt?"

"Look, Sam, we're hunting this demon and it may be hunting us too. That gun may be our only card."

Relenting, Sam told his father the Colt was in the car, which had been towed to a junkyard near the highway, and that Bobby was on his way to pick it up.

With a list of ingredients for what Sam thought was protection, John convinced him to meet Bobby at the car, so they could grab anything out of the trunk they didn't want anyone taking.

* * *

Sam met Bobby at the entrance of the junkyard, the older man pulling him into a tight hug. "You had me worried, you idjit. I'm glad you're okay," Bobby said, once the two of them pulled away.

"It's good to see you, Bobby," Sam said, relieved to see the old family friend.

"How's your daddy? And Dean?"

"My dad'll be fine. A little banged up, but he'll be fine."

Bobby nodded. "Glad to hear that stubborn bastard is alright. And Dean?" He prompted again.

Sam tried to make himself not look as devastated as he felt, but it was a poor charade. "He has cerebral edema-swelling in the brain. Doctors said they can't do anything for him until he wakes up... _if_ he wakes up," Sam said, using the doctor's words. Shrugging like it was nothing, he glanced around the sunny yard, searching for the Impala.

Bobby sighed, feeling his heart break at Dean's condition. He could tell how hard Sam was trying to hold it together right now. It didn't seem fair all the shit that had been thrown at him in the past year.

"Do we need to call Alice?" Bobby asked, quietly.

Whipping his head to Bobby, Sam frowned at him, quizzically. "Why would we do that?"

Bobby shrugged, looking down at the ground. "Well...if things are as bad as you say, shouldn't she get a last chance to see him if-"

"He's _not_ gonna die!"

Bobby held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay. Okay. But, don't you think she should know what's going on?"

Sam shook his head resolutely. "No. She's got enough to worry about right now."

"Sam-"

"Bobby, you didn't see her the last time Dean was dying. I'm not gonna do that to her again. And Cara and Noah...I'm not gonna let them visit their dad in the hospital a second time. Dean's gonna be fine. I'll find a way. Just...please, don't call her. Please, Bobby?"

" _Fine._ But you better know what you're doing, boy."

* * *

Seething in rage, Sam had returned from the junkyard. He had seen the traumatic state of the Impala, and how mad Dean was gonna be when he say it, _if_ he ever woke up- _stop it, Sam, stop acting like Dean's already dead,_ he scolded himself.

Entering John's room, Sam kept his back to his father. If he looked at John, Sam knew he was going to lose his shit.

"You're quiet," John observed.

Nerves grated by John's attitude, Sam spun and threw the bag down onto the bed. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"What are you talking about?" John asked, playing dumb.

Ever more pissed off at how childishly John was treating him, Sam laid into him. "That stuff from Bobby. You don't use it to ward off a demon. You use it to summon one. You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown?!"

"I have a plan, Sam," John explained calmly.

Sam pointed an accusatory finger at him. "That's exactly my point! Dean is dying and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!"

"Do not tell me how I feel, I am doing this for Dean!"

Sam scoffed. His father really was unbelieveable. "How is your revenge gonna help him? It's the same selfish obsession"

"You know, it's funny. I thought it was your obsession too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend, threatened _your_ niece and nephew. You begged me to be a part of this hunt. Now if you'd killed the damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened."

"It was _possessing_ you, Dad. I would have killed you too!"

"Yeah, and Cara and Noah wouldn't have to grow up without a father."

Disgusted, Sam retracted, like he had been shocked. He hated John using those two as leverage. "Don't act like you give a damn about those two kids. You met them once. And what? You were drunk off your ass the entire time? Do you have any idea how badly those two wanted to meet you? And you just let them down." Sam paused for a moment. "You know what? You can go straight to hell."

Quick to fire back, John continued. "I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake. I knew I was wrong-"

A full glass of water that was on the bedside table, was suddenly flung across the room, shattering against the opposite wall.

John and Sam only had a second before a herd of nurses and doctors were shouting, running down the hallway.

"Something's going on out there," John said, indicating Sam to follow the commotion.

Slipping into the hallway, Sam watched in horror as the medical staff were running towards Dean's room. "No, Dean, no," Sam whispered, sprinting to the door, to see the team attempting to resuscitate Dean, someone yelling there was no pulse.

Feeling his legs begin to feel heavy, Sam once again braced himself against the doorway, silently praying to whatever or whoever would listen.

" _I said get back!"_

Looking around the room, Sam was almost certain he'd heard…

"We have a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm."

With a feeling of relief, Sam slumped, but still, there was a wiggling feeling in his brain that he couldn't shake, like there was someone standing right beside him he couldn't see.

* * *

Quietly stepping into the room, Sam looked around carefully, another bag in his arms. The feeling that someone had been standing beside him hadn't gone away, and he had began to wonder if that someone was in fact in brother. "Hey, Dean. I think maybe you're around. And if you are, don't make fun of me for this. But um, well, there's one way we can talk."

Sitting down in the middle of the room, he pulled a ouija board, and stared at it with a bittersweet memory. "You uh, you remember when we were at that faith healer, and Alice asked us if we used ouija boards? We laughed at her like she was crazy. But I guess we're the crazy ones now." He swallowed, and placed two fingers on the planchette. "Dean. Dean are you here?"

Sam swallowed in expectant, worried concentration, gasping as the planchette slowly moved over "YES", indicating he was not alone, as he had suspected.

Beginning to laugh in relief, Sam felt some of his muscles relaxing. "It's good to hear your voice man. It's not the same without you...Dean? What?" Sam's relief was short lived when Dean began to spell something out.

"Hunt? Hunting? You're hunting something? What are you hunting?"

"YES".

"It's in the hospital, what you're hunting, isn't it? Do you know what it is?" Sam watched as the planchette began to move again, "R-E-A-P", it spelled.

"A reaper," Sam said, happiness short lived. "Dean...is it after you?"

Sam watched as the pointer slid to "YES" once again.

"If you're here naturally, there no way to stop it," Sam realized numbly. "Man you're um…"

Feeling like he did when he found out Dean was supposed to die months back, he refused to believe Dean was a goner this time. Jumping up, Sam quickly began to gather up the board and its pieces. "No no no. There's gotta be a way. There's gotta be a way...Dad'll know what to do."

Leaving Dean's spirit alone, Sam sprinted down the hall to his father's room, only to find the bed empty, vacated of all of John's' belongings.

"Dad," Sam whispered.

Spinning around, Sam returned to Dean's room, breathless.

Taking a seat on the edge of Dean's bed, Sam pulled out John's journal. "Hey, so Dad wasn't in his room. But I've got his journal, so who knows. Maybe there's something in here…" Determinedly, Sam began to flip through the journal, stopping when he came to the few pages on reapers. The information made him look up at Dean's body sadly. He _had_ to fix this. He didn't know how this family could go on without Dean… _any_ of them.

So, that's where he stayed, neck craning over the familiar print, as Sam read and reread every word, trying to find some hidden meaning or pattern he hadn't noticed before.

He kept pouring over the words, until the shadows of the room begin to change, indicating the sun was rising in the sky, higher and higher, without a care that perhaps some people would not be alive when the sun finally arced back down to the earth.

Quietly closing the journal, a small breath escaped Sam as he stood. He moved over to the window and stared bitterly outside. It was a warm, green day. Turning his attention back to the room, Sam glanced around, like he could catch a mirage of his brother. "Dean, are you here? I-I couldn't find anything in the book. I don't know how to help. I'm sorry.

"But I'll keep trying alright? As long as you keep fighting I'll keep looking. I mean, you can't leave me here alone. Not with Dad. We'll kill each other, you know that."

Fingers curling around the edge of the windowsill, Sam watched Dean's body for any reaction, a flutter of the eyelids, an increase in his heart rate. _Something._

"You can't leave Alice behind, you know. Maybe you don't notice it but...I see how she looks at you...it's how I used to look at Jess. Trust me, you don't want to leave her with that gaping feeling-

"And the kids. Man, please, if you're gonna stay for someone, stay for them. They're still young. _So_ young. If you're gone, who's gonna teach them all the words to every Zeppelin song, huh?"

Sam paused, not feeling Dean's presence anymore. "Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go man. Not now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Please. Can you hear me?" His voice broke at the last phrase, and Sam began to shake, feeling like he had already lost his brother.

* * *

Hanging on the edge of despair, Sam was stretching his brain to think of _something_ that he could do right then that was useful. His phone was clenched in one hand, where it had been for several minutes. Open to the call screen, Alice's number was punched in, but Sam hadn't been able to bring himself to press the call button. He'd already seen her almost lose Dean once. But this time?

What could he do?

There was nothing he could-

A sudden spike in the heart rate monitor was accompanied by a sharp gasp that hadn't come from Sam. Shooting upwards, Dean sat up in the bed, eyes open wide. His first gaps of air turned into choking as he swallowed the breathing tube that was down his throat.

"Dean?" The shock only lasted for a moment before Sam was in the hallway, calling for help.

* * *

The brothers were conversing quietly when there was a soft knock at the door. John Winchester, one arm in a sling, looking quite tired and disheveled entered the room. Sam immediately noticed the expression on his face seemed a bit sad, perhaps almost sheepish. "How you doing, dude?" John asked, giving Dean a small smile.

Dean had been trying to process everything that had happened. The last thing he remembered was Sam pointing a gun at their demon possessed father. He didn't remember the car crash or being airlifted to the hospital. He certainly didn't remember being a spirit. Apparently as one who had communicated to Sam-through a thirteen year old girl's slumber party toy, no less-that he was being hunted by a reaper.

He shrugged, feeling everything weighing on him. Something was _wrong._ Things weren't adding up or making sense. "Fine, I guess. I'm alive," Dean responded passively.

"That's what matters."

Sam watched the exchange, trying to temper his anger. But, seeing John act like nothing was wrong riled him up. Not able to sit there quietly any more, Sam straightened up, trying to make himself look taller. "Where were you last night?" He demanded in a baiting tone.

John gave Sam a neutral glance. "I had some things I had to take care of last night."

"Well _that's_ specific," Sam scoffed.

"Come on, Sam," Dean said. Being brought back from the brink of death, inexplicably, had left him feeling exhausted.

Sam ignored his brother and continued to interrogate his father. "Did you go after the demon?"

"No," John said simply, thinly.

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

A sigh, one that was lodged within John's lungs, was expelled. With a pleading, uncharacteristic tone, asked, "Can we not fight? You...half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads, Sammy. Like we always have. And like before you left for Stanford, we've both said things we didn't mean. I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I've could. I just don't want to fight anymore. Okay?" He paused. "Would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?" He asked, before Sam could say something back.

Stunned, Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah...sure." He slowly left the room with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Dad, are you alright?" Dean asked, concerned.

"Yeah, son. I'm just a little tired."

Dean knew his father better than anyone, and in his entire life, he had never seen John look so... _done._ John had always been fueled by anger and revenge and always jumped at the opportunity to have a fight. His blood was boiling red, but that energy seemed to have fizzled.

"What is it?" Dean felt himself beginning to frown; his father had never seemed older.

John came a little closer to Dean's beside. "You know, when you were a kid, and I would come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen...I'd be wrecked. And you'd come up to me, put your hand on my shoulder and look me in the eyes. You'd say 'it's okay, Dad.'"

Immediately feeling uncomfortable and worried all at once, Dean felt the urge to recoil.

"Dean, I'm sorry," John continued. "You shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should have been saying that to you. I put too much on your shoulders, made you grow up too fast.

"Maybe...maybe if I had been around more, been more of a father, you wouldn't have become a one at sixteen. But even as a teenager, you were still a better father than me.

"I put too much on your shoulders, made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy and you took care of me. And you took care of Alice and those kids. I'm sorry I made you have to be away from them so much. Even as a teenager, you were a better father than me, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He doubted he was a better father than John. And he doubted John being around more would've stopped him from knocking up Alice. Could-have-beens, should-have-beens, and would-have-beens were not things Dean tried to concern himself with.

"Is this really you talking?" Dean asked quietly. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to control his voice if he talked any louder.

John nodded. "Yeah, it's really me, son."

"Why are you saying this stuff."

John placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Tell those kids of yours I'm sorry. And tell Alice the same. And, I want you to watch out for Sammy. Okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. You know I will. But you're scaring me."

"Don't be scared, Dean. Everything is gonna be fine." Leaning forward, John pulled Dean into a hug, before whispering one last sentiment in his ear.

The last piece of information was so jarring, that Dean didn't move when John pulled away and slowly exited the room, glancing back at his son one last time.

* * *

Simmering hospital coffee splattered across the slick, tile floor as Sam launched himself to the ground, towards John, who was lying lifeless on the floor of an empty room. Gripping at his shoulders, Sam began to call for his father like he never had in life, shaking the man in an attempt to wake him up.

A little down the hallway, Dean's brain was bombarded by the sound of his brother yelling their father's name. Leaping out of bed, Dean ignored the achiness in his bones and sprinted to the source of the noise, heart beating in his ears as he saw Sam pulled back from their unconscious father as doctors and nurses began to perform CPR on John.

A doctor in a white coat sat back on his heels with a deep sigh. "Okay, stop compressions."

"Come on, come on," Dean whispered, one hand gripping the doorway, the other gripping Sam's jacket.

"Still no pulse," a nurse replied.

"No _no,"_ Sam intoned, unaware his was even whispering.

"Okay. That's it everybody. I'll call it. Time of death: 10:41 A.M."

The pressure in the room dropped to zero, and whiteness of the hospital seemed to grow brighter while the nurses and doctors began to fade.

"What? No no no. That's our dad! You have to check him again!" From Dean's side, Sam had darted forward, trying to reach John's body, only to be met with a wall of nurses trying to restrain him.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. He's gone. Please-"

A tinny, irritating tone reverberated around the room. Confused at what the sound was, Dean realized it was coming from his pocket. In consternation, he pulled out his phone, which was ringing and vibrating angrily.

The name on the screen was blurry, but he could tell it was short, beginning with an 'A'.

Pressing the talk button, he placed it to his ears. "Hello?" His voice was hollow and numb.

"Dean where are you?"

It was Alice.

And she sounded hysterical.

"I'm at a hospital in-"

In the background on the other end of a line, there was a crash and a scream. "CARA! NOAH! _NO!"_ Alice's voice was directed away from the phone.

Feeling himself slam back down to reality, Dean pushed away from the wall, ignoring the sounds of Sam pleading with the nurses, who were pleading with him in return.

"Alice? What's going on? _Alice!"_ Dean demanded into the phone.

There was a gasp and a cry from Alice. She sounded frantic and in pain as she spoke. " _Demons!_ They're here, they found us. Oh God! Oh-"

The line went dead.

"Alice? Alice! Are you there... _DAMN IT."_ Dean chucked the phone, which ricocheted off the opposite wall and clattered to the ground.

Ignoring the shattered phone, Dean turned and grabbed Sam by the shoulders, who had calmed down at was now kneeling in front of his father in a sort of catatonic state. Someone had placed a white sheet over their father. And the nurses, no longer needing to hold Sam back, were slowly trickling out of the room.

"Sammy. Sam. We've gotta go." Dean shook his brother's shoulder urgently.

Head turning slowly, Sam looked at Dean, tears staining his cheeks. "Go where?"

"Chicago."

Frowning, Sam shook his head. "No. We have to take care of his body."

Refusing to glance at John's shrouded body, Dean began pulling Sam to stand. "Alice called me. The demons found them, Sammy. The demons are there."

Jumping up, Sam popped out of his fugue state. "What about Dad? We can't just leave him."

Dean shook his head, pushing his father out of his head for now. "Call Bobby. Have him come get Dad."

Sam nodded, and the two shot off down the hallway, leaving behind the body of their father, covered in a snow white sheet.

* * *

Going over a hundred miles an hour, Dean focused dangerously on the road in a stolen burgundy red Toyota Corolla, while Sam called Bobby to get their father, and then tried over and over, alternating between calling Jan and Alice, neither of whom were answering.

They had been running all over the place for nearly a week, hardly getting any sleep. Their father had inexplicably died and Dean had inexplicably woken up from a coma.

Neither brother could let himself absorb what was going on.

But they knew there was no rest for them and no end in sight to the unending horrors that were coming down in fiery bursts upon their family.

It didn't seem like the torture was below their feet.

Hell was all around them.

* * *

 **Certainly not my best chapter, but it was an important transition into the next. It may seem a little all over the place, but hopefully that helps reflect how jarring and disjointed things are for the brothers right now. Hope you don't mind how similar it was to the script, but there are so many elements from this episode that I just loved.**

 **And although there wasn't any of the Mercers in this chapter, you can guarantee there will be in the next one.**

 **I hope everyone is enjoying fall-even though it still feels like summer-and everything is well.**

 **Lastly, I really appreciate everyone who has followed and favorited. Just the fact that anyone wants to read this story really makes me happy :)**


	30. Suffer the Little Children

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty: Suffer the Little Children**

* * *

 _Reaching forward, Dean tucked a piece of hair behind Alice's ear as she got up. Walking across the room, she popped a cassette into the player which sat on a dresser. She pressed play and settled herself back on her side, facing Dean on the bed._

"...Hold on little girl. Show me he's done to you. Stand up little girl, a broken heart can be that bad..." _The words softly came out of the speakers._

 _Dean snorted, grimacing a bit. "Really? Mr. Big?"_

 _She shrugged. "Oh right. I forgot. Anything made after the eighties isn't music. You know, it wouldn't hurt to expand your music horizons a little bit, Dean."_

" _And you know there were books written after the nineteenth century. Just saying, it wouldn't hurt to expand your horizons, Allie," Dean teased._

 _With a playful surprise gape on her face, she reached across the bed and lightly shoved him in the chest. "You are such a-"_

 _Stopping mid giggle, both Alice and Dean froze for a moment. Between them on the bed were two sleeping toddlers, conked out after a long day spent at a pumpkin patch, in the crisp fall air. Noah, who had been nestled up against Alice stirred as she had reached forward to push Dean._

 _When he finally settled back down with a deep sigh, both parents relaxed. "Thank god these two are such heavy sleepers," Alice said, voice quieter._

 _Looking down, Dean brushed a puffy curl out of Cara's pale face. His hand then reached for Noah's dark head, smoothing his crazy hair down. "They have the messiest hair," he said._

" _You have no idea. It's such a nightmare to try and even get a comb near their head. You'd think I was trying to torture them."_

 _Smirking, Dean allowed himself to absorb the moment. He had been there for two days now, Sammy and Dad once again thinking he was on another solo hunt. They were at Jan's house, who had gone out of town to some unknown destination._

 _They had spent the past two days together. Today they'd gone to a pumpkin patch that had a petting zoo and pony rides-much to the kids' delight._

 _And when they got home, the kids had been running around, hopped up on energy for the day, both insisting they didn't need to go to sleep. So, Alice had allowed them to go to bed with them, only to have the toddlers passed out within five minutes._

 _For the past two hours, Dean and Alice had been conversing quietly, their children sleeping between them._

 _The song ended, and there was a lull in the conversation. Alice sighed in contentment. "This is kind of perfect. I'm glad you're here, Dean."_

" _I'm glad I'm here, too."_

 _Reaching across the bed, Alice placed a hand on Dean's cheek. "You, I never thought I'd feel peace like this."_

 _Placing a hand over hers, Dean just nodded, not wanting to shatter the fragile reality of the moment._

 _He wished things would stay this quiet forever._

* * *

Everything was quiet. The trees created a canopy over the street, soft patches of sunlight streaming down onto the cracked asphalt and worn houses.

One of the houses, situated in the middle of a row, in the middle of the street, a pair of footsteps moving up the creaky stairs were quiet and deliberate. The breaths were coming in harsh, but shallow bursts. Everything was measured and calm.

Except for the hearts beating like battle drums.

Poised in front of the door, Sam glanced at his brother, shotgun held firmly in his hands. Dean nodded, one hand reaching for the knob, the other gripping his handgun. Turning the handle, the door squeaked open ominously, revealing a the dark interior of Jan's home. Both boys held their breath, not sure if something was going to charge them from the drab darkness of the home.

Leading the way, Dean carefully stepped over the threshold, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The place had always been a bit depressing, and hard to see in, and now, that only made things worse. Hefting his gun a little higher as he stepped into the living room, he saw nothing out of place.

Clearing his throat, Sam motioned upstairs with his shotgun, letting his brother know he would check the upper floor of the house.

Dean nodded slowly and continued from the living room into the dining room, where nothing was disturbed, quite the opposite. The china cabinet along one wall was covered in a fine layer of dust.

Dean had moved into the kitchen when Sam reappeared in the entryway, shaking his head that he had found nothing upstairs. It was almost as if they were all just _gone._ There was no sign of a struggle anywhere.

While Sam looked around the kitchen for signs of anything out of place, Dean moved to the backdoor, and stilled, when he noticed something.

Running a finger along the handle of the door, he inspected the residue left over on his finger. "Sam," he said lowly, staring down at the substance.

"What is it?" Sam came over and looked over Dean's shoulder, to the handle of the door.

Rubbing his fingers together, Dean knew what it was immediately, from the yellowish, powdery color quality. "Sulfur."

But this sulfur wasn't just sulfur. It had an almost orange tint, and was sticky, mixed with some other element.

"Is that…"

Dean nodded, confirming Sam's suspicions of the strange concoction."It's sulfur...and blood,"

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Sam felt his jaw beginning to lock up. He pushed any morbid thoughts out of his mind, only able to imagine how close his brother was to losing it all. Grinding his teeth, he nodded silently and slid the door open, slipping out into the yard.

There was a light trail of sulfur and blood that led from the backdoor, to the garage, nestled in one corner of the yard. The door to the small structure was cracked open slightly, handle smeared in the orangish substance.

Once the brothers stood before the entrance, with their guns raised, Dean kicked in the door and the two burst into the room, guns trained tightly on the room. But before either could adjust to the strange yellow lighting, created by the window covered in faded paper, both of them were slammed back against the walls, heads knocking back violently. The entire structure shook at the force in which the brothers were thrown, causing both to black out before they hit the ground.

* * *

" _Wake up...it's time to wake up_ ….I SAID WAKE UP!" The voice that had barely been a whisper, floating in Dean's mind was suddenly too loud. And it was accompanied by a stinging slap on the cheek.

Jerking awake, Dean found himself unable to move very far. Blinking in confusion, he realized his legs were tied together, and arms were tied behind his back. Someone was pressed up against him, and he realized he was tied back to back with someone. Thinking it was Sam, Dean went to ask if he was okay, but stopped when he realized something was shoved in his mouth, to keep him from talking.

"Daddy? Daddy, is that you?"

Eyes widening, Dean watched in horror as Cara dropped in front of her father. There was a wound on the side of her forehead, like she had been struck by something. There were dried tears on her face like she had been crying. "Daddy? Why did you lie to us? Why did you-"

"Dean." The voice came from behind him. It was Alice. _She_ was the one tied to him. "Don't listen to them. That's not-"

"Mommy, don't lie; that's a sin." There was the sound of Noah's voice, followed by the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Dean felt the impact of the punch, which forced Alice back into him. He also felt her slump forward, limp, unconscious.

Finally stepping into Dean's line of sight, Noah, knelt down in front of his father "I wondered when you were gonna come save us." Dean frowned, noticing the unfamiliar way Noah moved and the strange cadence in his voice. There was an inkling in the very corner of his mind that he refused to acknowledge.

A strange garbled sound was the result of Dean trying to say his son's name around the cloth shoved in his mouth.

"You've been lying to us," Cara said quietly, going to wipe a tear out of her eye. When her hand snagged on her glasses, she abruptly plucked them off her face, and shattered them in one hand, promptly dropping them to the ground. "All I wanted was the truth."

Dean frowned, staring at the crushed glasses, still feeling like he was in a nightmare, now entirely sure what she was referring to, but like other feelings he was trying to push down, he had a vague sense what she was talking about.

"Well, he's here now. He can tell us himself," Noah assured. He reached forward and pulled the gag out of Dean's mouth, so it hung around his neck. "Won't you, Daddy?"

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked when he could finally talk.

Displeased, Cara frowned, insulted. "Is that all you care about?" Jealousy seeped into her voice.

She paused for a moment, composing herself. "He's behind you. Still out. Got hit pretty hard. Aunt Jan's in and out." Turning as much as he could, Dean caught sight of Sam and Jan hung on the wall, like they were crucified, heads limp against their chests.

"Now," Cara reiterated. "Are you gonna tell us the truth?"

Dean frowned in consternation. His head was throbbing and he was still seeing double of everything. "What?"

Rolling her eyes, Cara looked at her brother. "How dense is he?"

"Maybe this'll wake him up. Hey, Dad." Turning to Noah, Dean felt his entire body stiffen when he looked at his son.

It wasn't the way Noah was smirking or the way his arms were crossed strangely.

It was his eyes.

They were black.

"Noah? No no no no no-"

"Noah's not calling the shots anymore,"

"Neither is your baby girl." Cara's eyes flicked black too.

With the two sets of eyes, deep as voids staring at him, all the feelings Dean had been trying to push down came surging up. Mysteriously waking up from a coma with a foreboding feeling sitting in his stomach. Leaving his father dead, on a cold hospital floor. The sound of Alice screaming into the phone for help. And now, watching his innocent babies' eyes turn coal.

It was his fault.

Everything.

All of it.

The demon possessing Noah nodded slowly, a small, smug smile beginning to blossom across his face. "I think he's finally got it."

Hit with clarity like a freight train, Dean's muscles tensed and he immediately began to pull against the restraints. As he fought against the ropes, Alice's motionless body flopped against his back, like a fish out of water.

It made him wonder: how long had Alice watched in agony as her children tortured her. And how long had his innocent children been prisoners in their own minds, while pure evil was calling the shots?

"Did Meg send you?" Dean demanded, imagining that blonde haired whore, wishing he'd gotten to torture her a little more before she was exorcised.

"She did," the demon in Noah affirmed.

"That bitch I-"

"Enough of that." The demon in Cara sat down, cross legged in front of him. Watching, the demon noticed how Dean shifted in the ropes. "Don't bother. We took all your weapons. And now that you're finally here, we're gonna play a game."

Dean bared his teeth. "I'm not playing any game with you."

The demon smirked. "Fine. Then exorcise me."

He glowered in dangerous silence.

Smug, she scooted closer up. "Thought so," she said in a singsongy voice. "How did you think you were gonna keep your precious kiddos safe when you don't even know a basic exorcism? See, Jan over there is like a walking Bible. She knows every exorcism forward and backward. We couldn't let her ruin the chance to have our fun. Like she almost did earlier."

"You think _this_ is fun?" Dean spat back. He was shaking so badly from anger, someone might've thought he had a chill. But he was so _so_ enraged that tears were threatening to seep out of his eyes.

Cara rolled her eyes. "Well...not yet. We haven't started our game first."

" _What_ game?"

"I ask you a question. You answer."

"Why don't you just read my mind?"

She let out a laugh. "Oh. You think this is for _my_ sake? No. This is for your daughter's and son's. See, the two of us having something in common."

"You two have _nothing_ in common," Dean spat back.

" _We_ don't like being lied to. All of us." The demon in Cara motioned to Noah.

" _Don't_ include me in that, Phenex. Just because you're too naive to see the truth-"

"And _just_ because you know everything, Murmur, doesn't mean _I_ can't hope!" Phenex, the demon in Cara rose up and turned to face Murmur, the demon in Noah.

"There's no hope. You're never getting your paradise," Murmur taunted. "It's just a stupid fantasy. Just like your stupid game." Murmur shoved Phenex away from him. "Have your fun. But do it fast. I'm tired of this."

Shoving him back one last time. Phenex settled herself down in front of Dean once again, who was silently watching the two, disturbed at the dynamic between the two demons, while still looking like Cara and Noah. "I'll go first," she said. "Why have you lied to your children all their life?"

"Get bent, bitch," Dean spat, unable to control himself. The way Cara's face was twisted by Phenex made him want to kill the bastards. But at the same time, he saw his daughter's pale, fragile face, he couldn't think about the pure evil behind those eyes without wanting to break.

Phenex sighed. "Murmur. You wanna help me out here?"

Frowning, Dean watched as Phenex held up an arm. Smirking, Murmur came over, and without flinching, snapped the held out wrist.

" _No!"_ Dean attempted to lunge forward, which resulted in a pitiful jerk.

Sitting back down, Phenex showed Dean the broken wrist. "I forgot to mention. If you don't answer a question, then Cara and Noah are the ones who are gonna be paying. So, just answer the questions, Daddy."

"Don't call me that," Dean growled lowly, still glaring at Cara's wrist, bent at a sickening angle.

"Then play the game," Phenex spat back, all playfulness gone from her voice.

" _Fine."_

"Why have you lied to your kids all their life?"

Dean's jaw worked hard. Scoffing, Phenex reached behind her, pulling out one of Dean's knives from her pockets. "I think it's time for the baby boy to take a hit."

Just as she was about to hand the knife to Murmur, Dean spoke up. "Okay! Okay! I lied to them to protect them! Keep them safe!"

Murmur's eyes flashed black, from where he leaned against the wall. "And how'd that work out?" He asked, sarcastically.

"Answer him," Phenex commanded, holding the knife out to Murmur once again.

"Shitty," Dean admitted.

"Must be a hard pill to swallow," Murmur commented.

"Shut up," Dean hissed, unable to take the smug look on the demon's face.

"That's it. I'm not gonna be disrespected by two hundred pounds of raw meat." Grabbing the knife from Phenex, Murmur sliced a deep, vertical cut downs Noah's forearm.

The small, soundproof garage was filled with the sounds of Dean cursing out the demons and at the same time, begging them to leave his children alone. He began thrashing against the tight, well-tied ropes, trying to get any kind of slack in the restraints. And all the while, his flailing and yells were enough to rouse Alice back to consciousness.

She awoke to the sound of Dean yelling at the demons in her children, and the demons taking turns taunting him and laughing. "What have you done?! What did you do?!" Alice began shrieking hysterically, not sure if she was yelling at Dean for getting them into this situation or for the monsters in her children.

Also awoken by the noise, Sam was furiously pulling against the cuffs, attempting to unlatch himself. His thrashing shook the entire wall. "Hey! Let me go!" He yelled. "Dean!"

" _Omnipotens, qui fugabunt maligni spiritus invoco-"_ Among the chaos of the screams, Jan woke, and Latin words began to intermingle, causing both demons to twitch slightly.

"That's it! I'm gonna kill that bitch!" Murmur yelled. Looking around, he tried to find the knife he had cut Noah's arm with. "Where-"

But before Murmur could locate the weapon, Phenex let out a shriek, as Dean, free from his bonds, side tackled her, into the workbench.

"Dean, don't hurt her!" Alice screeched as she attempted to cut the bonds from the knife Dean had slipped into her hands.

Recovering from the blow, Phenex sucker punched Dean as he attempted to reach for a canister of salt. "You ruined my game. Now you're gonna wish you just sat down and shut up," Phenex hissed, grabbing Dean by the collar of his shirt. She knocked her head into his and threw him with tremendous strength into the window, which promptly shattered all over him.

" _-fiat misericórdia tua semper Pater, nisi et hos-"_

Muscles all over his body continuing to fasciculate, Murmur grabbed a bat that was nearby and swung it as hard as he could at Jan's head, promptly knocking her out.

Pulling against the restraints, Sam, now realizing in the chaos that his niece and nephew were possessed, he tried to appeal to Noah trapped inside. "Noah please, you can fight this!"

"He can't!" Murmur yelled back. "He's a child! You can shut up too!" The bat cracked against Sam's head.

The ropes around Alice's wrists were beginning to fray as she sliced the knife back and forth. She watched as the demon in her son beat in Sam and Jan's heads with a bat, face twisting in anger. He looked unstable.

"WHERE IS THAT KNIFE!?" Murmur shouted, looking around. Beginning to see red, he watched at Phenex continued to pummel Dean in the face.

 _Fine._ If he couldn't find the knife, he have to use the next best thing.

Unceremoniously, Murmur took the bat and swung it, once over one knee. There was a sharp cracking sound, and the struck leg buckled.

"STOP! Please don't hurt him!" Alice begged.

"I want this family to _suffer_ before I end them," Murmur vowed.

A familiar screech cut through the garage and Murmur turned to Phenex, face burning and flaky, as Dean splash holy water on her face.

Growling, Murmur hobbled forward, legs twisted at horrible angles.

As he was about to swing the bat over Dean's back, someone gently pulled him away.

Turning, Alice had him gripped by both shoulders, the knife loosely held in one hand. "Noah, _please,"_ she begged.

"You can see your children again in Hell," Murmur assured. Grabbing the knife, he turned it around on Alice, and stabbed forward in blind anger.

"NO!"

* * *

Before she knew what happened, Alice felt herself shoved to the side. Scrambling up, she watched as her aunt, who had pushed her out of the way, inexplicably free of the cuffs and awake from being hit by a bat, had a knife plunged into her heart.

"NO!" Alice yelled.

Immediately, blood began to pour out of Jan's mouth, as her hands went around the hilt of the knife. " _-abolere bestiis animam. Amen."_

The sound of low growling coming from deep within both children caused both of them to drop to the floor in epileptic seizures. Their bodies jerked in different directions as the demons fought to stay in their bodies.

But the parasites were no longer able to hold onto the hosts anymore, and black smoke simultaneously erupted from Cara and Noah's mouths, shooting through the ceiling.

The small, broken bodies stilled.

And for a moment, everything was quiet.

That was until the sound of Jan's body collapsing to the ground stirred Alice.

Rushing over to her aunt, Alice pulled Jan's head onto her lap as best as she could. She knew it was better to leave the knife in the wound, as opposed to pulling it out.

As Jan coughed, Alice placed her hands over her aunt's, still would around the hilt of the weapon.

"Jan, hey, it's gonna be okay," Alice assured.

"Those fuckers gone?" Jan asked, referring to the demons.

It took Alice a moment to nod. "Yeah they're gone. Aunt Jan, you saved us."

Meaning to scoff, it came out more as a painful cough. "It was nothing. Chin up, Allie; I'll see you on the other side." With that, Jan shut her eyes, coughing one final time, as her body went limp. Underneath her hands, Alice felt Jan's grip loosen.

"What? Wait wait wait!" Alice's hands reached for her aunt's face "No no no! Jan! Janet, come on you'll be fine!"

A moment later, Alice realized her aunt was gone. Gently removing Jan's head from her lap and laying her on the ground, Alice observed the carnage around her.

Sam was still passed out along the wall, an angry red welt on the side of his face. He had older injuries that weren't from today.

And then, Alice turned to Dean.

He had pulled both Cara and Noah near him. Bending over them, his head rested on the ground between their lifeless bodies, other two arms, clutching them to him.

Feeling her stomach twist, Alice fell to her knees, listening as Dean wept for their fallen children.

* * *

 **St. Philomena's Hospital**

 **That Night**

* * *

Dean hated hospitals.

Absolutely fucking hated them.

And now, here he sat, again in a hospital. Although this time he wasn't the one in a hospital bed.

But stuck in a chair between his two children, who were in beds was worse than being in one himself.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Dean looked up as the dim light from the hallway flooded into the dark room, from the slowly opening door.

"How'd the headscan go?" Dean asked, mumbling the words.

Sam shrugged. "What you'd expect. Concussion. Said they'd give me some painkillers for the next couple days." He came pulled up a chair so he was next to his brother.

"Where's Alice?" Dean asked. He hadn't seen her for awhile.

"She's with a priest. He's giving Jan her last rites."

"Right." Dean remembered. Jan was dead. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the tiled ceiling.

"How are they?" Sam asked quietly, referring to the unconscious bodies of his niece and nephew.

"How are they?" Dean asked, voice breaking with small specks of anger. He glanced at Cara on one side and Noah on the other, tucked under stiff, white sheets. "How do you _think_ they are? Noah has a broken kneecap and needed a blood transfusion for the amount he lost from the cut on his arm. Cara has a head wound, a broken wrist, and three broken ribs from where I tackled her.

"Doctors had to sedate _both_ of them because they couldn't calm down enough to fall asleep."

Suddenly getting up from the chair, Dean had to go stand on the other side of the room, and look out the window, down at the Chicago traffic that never seemed to end.

Composing himself a little bit, he turned back to his brother. "They're in pieces, Sam. Because of me."

"What about you?" Sam asked.

"What about me?" Dean snapped.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. My face got busted up. It'll heal." He had taken one look in the mirror earlier and hardly recognized himself. The entire left side of his face was red and swollen from where Phenex had wailed on him so many times.

And maybe he hadn't fought back as hard as he could have, because it was still Cara.

"That's not what I meant, Dean," Sam sighed, the fight leaving his voice. "Bobby called. He said the hospital finally released Dad's body to him."

 _Dad._ Clenching his jaw, Dean nodded. _Oh yeah, Dad was dead too._ "Good."

Sam bit his lip. "Bobby also got the Impala towed out there."

Dean perked up a bit at the mention of his car. "How is she?"

Sam remembered Dean had been in a coma when he went to clear out the drunk. "Uhh...not great."

Huffing, Dean slumped back in his chair, not responding.

Crossing his arms, Sam shifted as he watched his brother. He knew Dean had been through so much in the past few days. Finding the demon, losing their father, the Colt, and waking up from a coma. Now, sitting between his children that had been told about the supernatural world in the most vicious way possible.

Dad was dead. Jan was dead.

The one who was the most physically intact was Alice.

But emotionally, Sam knew she was probably one of the most screwed up.

"Have you found anything out about those bastards?" Dean finally asked.

Glancing between the beds, as if needing to check Cara and Noah were actually asleep, Sam sighed when he realized what Dean meant. "Yeah."

"What'd you find out?"

Watching Dean's intense stare in the dark, Sam sighed and pulled out John's journal. It felt sacrilegious, but he had added a few new pages, as there were no notes on the demons inside them.

"Phenex, the one that was in Cara? Name is a variation of phoenix. Like the name, the demon was hoping to rise to heaven after a thousand years in Hell, but was deceived. Phenex is blinded by anger by those who do not keep their words, or hide the truth."

"That explains her sick, twisted game of Truth or Break a Bone," Dean muttered.

Sam nodded in understanding. "Some other notable features of Phenex include a sweet, melodic, almost childlike voice. Phenex is considered a kind of poet by some."

"Not by me," Dean growled lowly. "And the other one?"

"Murmur. Right." Sam flipped a few more pages and squinted in the poor light. He didn't want to turn on the lamp between the beds in case it disturbed Cara and Noah. "Here. Murmur. Known for his wealth of knowledge-"

Dean scoffed.

"It's said Murmur can answer the question any dead man may have. He's a philosopher. And he's often depicted as a vulture in Judeo-Christian theology."

"Yeah he was a vulture, alright."

"And the demon's name is derived from the sound of trumpets, which often signal the demon. And…"

" _And?"_ Dean prompted, tired of Sam's hesitation.

"They take orders from Azazel."

"Who?"

"The yellow-eyed demon is named Azazel. Phenex and Murmur are his henchmen."

"Figures," Dean muttered, flopping back onto the chair.

"Dean," Sam tried again, seeing how quickly his brother was unraveling.

"Sam. Save it. We can talk more later."

Knowing it was just to shut him up, Sam allowed himself to be appeased by the words. "You need anything?" He eventually asked.

"A cup of coffee."

"Dean, you should really try to sleep-"

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, Sam!" The harsh words reverberated throughout the room, meaning not lost on either brother.

"Right," Sam said lowly. "I'll go get you that coffee."

And with that, Dean was left alone, once again, keeping watch over his children.

* * *

Hands shaking, Alice carefully pulled the sheet back over Jan's face. She glanced up at the priest who stood on the other side of the metal slab Jan's body was on. The man was tired, no doubt having to be called in the middle of the night, but his compassion and understanding surpassed anything Alice could have hoped for.

"I appreciate you coming out here so late, Father Makray. It was a really sudden death. And with everything going on, I didn't even think-"

The priest held up a hand. "I understand. But just know, your aunt is with God now. She's no longer in pain."

Immediately feeling herself begin to tear up, Alice covered her mouth. "Thank you," she whispered.

The priest placed a hand on her shoulder and offered some comforting words that she didn't seem to hear. Then, he was gone, and the morgue tech was pushing Jan back into her metal cubby.

Eventually, Alice found herself outside the morgue, where she slid down against the wall, until she was sitting, unable to cope any longer. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she cried at the priests. She knew Jan didn't believe she would ever end up in heaven. And deep down, Alice hadn't believed it either.

That made her cry even harder.

Then, she cried for her children. Both were laid up in hospital beds, injured and knocked unconscious. Their innocence had been robbed from them, and she had no idea how to go forward now. Everything had just shattered, but they were all still there.

By some miracle. They were still there.

They were there on a world that kept on spinning, not giving a damn what happened to them.

* * *

 **Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

* * *

Leaning against the doorway to the study, Bobby took another sip of the whiskey, not even feeling the burn as it came straight from the bottle.

He had cleared away a table that was normally cluttered with books, situated in the corner of the room. But now, instead of books, the table now hosted the shrouded body of John Winchester.

Bobby knew it wouldn't be long before the body started stinking up the joint, but he couldn't do anything without those boys here. And now, they were both stuck in Chicago. Sam had called a few hours back, telling them everything that had happened, that Cara and Noah had been possessed, and mentioning that Janet Sutton was dead.

Hearing that Jan was dead had left Bobby with a strange, hollow feeling. He didn't know what name to give it. He and Jan were...friends. He guessed he could call her that. Really, the only reason the two were ever thrown into the same boat was because of Alice and Dean. They were both surrogate parents for two confused young adults. And those kids. Both of them loved those kids like they were their own grandchildren.

Sure, Bobby would talk to Jan on the phone occasionally, and she even dropped by once in a blue moon, but he hadn't really put a word to what they were.

But he liked her. She was sassy and carefree, even though he could tell she had deep seated, traumatic memories like him. He could see from the hardened look in her eyes that she had been through shit, seen some truly fucked up things, and it have made her stronger.

She had been a fighter.

And from what Sam relayed to him that Alice and Dean had told him: Jan had gone down swinging, in a blaze of glory, literally saving the day with her dying breath.

She had lived like she had died: wild and unafraid.

If that wasn't a woman, Bobby didn't know what was.

Clearing his throat, Bobby took another swig of the whiskey, moving further into the room, until he stood over John Winchester's body.

"You stupid bastard," Bobby muttered lowly. He stared at the whiskey in his hand, knowing it was John's favorite.

Sighing, Bobby set the whiskey down by John's head, and pulled a chair, close to the table. "I know what you did, you know," Bobby said, as he sat down.

"I don't know if those boys have figured it out yet, but I know."

Bobby took a deep, shaking breath.

"After all the times you abandoned them and let them down, you made me want to pump your ass full of buckshot, and choke the ever loving shit out of you, I always knew you were a selfish, sorry bastard."

Bobby glared down at the sheet. "Those boys grew up in a toxic, fucked up environment because you were so hellbent on revenge, you couldn't see straight.

"I was the one who taught them to throw that perfect spiral, instead of throwing a knife. I was the one who believed them when they said they had a broken bone, instead of telling them to man up. _I_ was the one who gave them soup when they were sick, instead of throwing them a gauze bandage after they got scraped up on a hunt.

" _I_ was the one that was there for them! While you were out losing your mind and tearing the world apart, _I_ was the one here comforting those boys and telling them everything would be okay!

" _I_ had to become a father for those boys because you were too obsessed with that demon to even _stop_ and see how it was affecting them.

"You pushed Sam away and pushed Dean around. You turned them into soldiers, and forgot they were just children. They were just _children,_ John! You stole their childhood, John! They never got to be kids because of you!

"And how did it all end? Huh? It ended with that yellow-eyed bastard getting you before you could get it. The Colt's gone. You lost your life. And for what?! Mary's still dead, and now so are you! Your sons are officially orphans because of you!"

Chest heaving, Bobby threw the whiskey bottle against the opposite wall, and watched in shatter. The sound reverberated with the angry words still lingering in the echoey room.

"I _know_ you made a deal with that demonic bastard. I know John. I _know._ I don't know if those boys know yet, but they're smart and they'll figure it out. And how do you think they're gonna feel-how do you think Dean's gonna feel? You stupid bastard," Bobby muttered under his breath.

There was a lull, and Bobby stared at the shatter pieces of glass scattered across the floor. He sighed deeply.

"But in the end, you came through. You saved those boys. And after all the grief you caused me, I can only thank you for that.

"Still, I want you to know you're always gonna be a stupid bastard to me, John." Bobby felt himself smiling sadly, but lightly as the last phrase emanated through the room, eventually evaporating like a ghost.

* * *

Alice was coming back up from the morgue when she shoulder-checked someone rounding a corner. Spinning out for a moment, she grabbed the wall to steady herself. "Oh God I'm sorry-Sam."

Recovering from the sudden bump, Sam checked the coffees, which he held onto tightly. The lids were secure so nothing had spilled.

Noticing the piping hot drinks, Alice felt even worse. "Sorry. That could've been bad if you spilled those."

He shrugged it off. "It's nothing. You coming back from the morgue?"

She nodded. "Gave...Jan her last rites. Was about to call a funeral director. Jan always told me she wanted to be cremated but...the idea of her body burning? I couldn't bring myself to do it."

At the mention of a funeral, Sam felt a shiver go through himself. He knew his father was dead and that Bobby had brought the body back to his house, but Sam hadn't thought much further than that. He knew John would've wanted to be burned on a pyre, and that was something that should've been done as close to death as possible. And Sam knew Bobby wouldn't do it without the both of them there.

"Sam?" Alice asked, noticing how he suddenly paled. "Are you alright?"

He sighed. "There's something that I should probably tell you." Maybe it wasn't the best time to tell her-there was so much going on, but the news was gonna come out eventually and perhaps she could help reach out to Dean if she knew everything.

Alice immediately felt her walls go up. She couldn't take any more surprises or bad news. "What?" She asked cautiously, lowly.

"Our dad...John...he's dead."

"Was it the demon?"

Sam nodded. "I think so."

She wanted to ask a thousand more questions, but suddenly, like everything else bouncing around in her mind, a single, coherent thought couldn't seem to come to mind. It seemed like all the worries and things she wanted to know were trapped in her mind, no way to escape.

"I hate demons," was the only thing that she could formulate at the moment.

Sam nodded. "Me too." Glancing down, he stared at the cups of coffee in his hand. "Do you want one?"

Alice smiled grimly, trying to be reassuring. "No thanks." She didn't want her heart racing any faster than it already was. "Why do you have two, anyways?"

"One for me. One of them's for Dean."

Not saying anything, Alice just shook her head in disapproval as the two walked in silence, towards the pediatric unit.

When they reached the room, both paused in surprise when they saw Dean fast asleep, on the chair between the two beds.

* * *

It was as someone flipped a light in a dark room.

Noah's eyes were suddenly open, and he glanced around, confused, heart racing. Everything was so white and bright. Clean and innocent. He remained still, breaths becoming shallow as his scrambled mind raced in circles. Hearing the sound of blood rushing, Noah noticed he felt like he was falling sideways. Panicking, he ripped off the white sheet that was tucked around him.

He was about to launch himself out of the bed, when he heard a familiar voice. "Noah, don't."

Coming from the side, the voice belonged to his sister. And like him, she was also in a white hospital bed, a few feet away. She was propped up on the pillows like she had been awake for awhile. There was a white gauze bandage on her hairline. He noticed a white cast on her arm, which rested against the light sheets.

"What? What happened. Why are we in a hospital. Why-" He asked hoarsely, finding his voice. It felt odd, like he had forgotten how to control it.

"It took me a minute to remember too," she said. Her voice sounded far away.

"Remember wh-"

Cara opening the door in the middle of the night. The way the blackness of the night seemed to undulate. He remembered the feeling of choking on smoke as it invaded his nose and mouth. And then it felt like he was trapped in his own head: stuck at the bottom of a six foot deep, freshly dug grave, just shallow enough he could _almost_ get out, but just deep enough that he would slide back down every time. He could hear distorted voices of what was happening around him, and could catch glimpses of it.

And like in the dream, he was yelling for help and for it to stop, but no one heard him.

And like the dream, someone poked their head over the side. Only, Noah had seen himself standing at the edge of the ground, six feet above. He had stared down at himself, with black eyes.

" _Murmur_ ," Noah whispered.

"Demons," Cara confirmed, the word nearly getting stuck in her throat. But once, it was out in the room, it hung there in the air, stagnant. Earlier, the word had magically generated itself in her head, with no warning.

Looking at up Cara, he watched as the whites of her eyes turned black suddenly.

Gasping, Noah blinked again, seeing her eyes back to normal.

"Noah?" Cara asked, carefully.

"You let them in," he accused quietly.

"What?" Cara asked.

"You let them in. I warned you. I warned you something was coming. You didn't listen. You opened the door and you let them in."

"Noah I-"

Suddenly noticing the bandage that was on his arm, Noah shivered as the memory of a knife slashing his arm flash across his eyes. And not only that, but _his_ own body cutting _himself_ with the knife.

With a loud, strangled breath, Noah nearly fell off his bed, as the next set of images bombarded the forefront of his mind. He remembered watching in first person as he stabbed the knife towards his mother, only to have Aunt Jan jump in the way. Remembering how it felt to pierce her flesh with the knife made Noah feel nauseous.

"Noah...Noah?" Seeing the glazed over look on her brother's face scared her. Climbing out of her own bed, Cara felt a sharp pain go through her side. In confusion, she placed a hand over her ribcage as she tried to ignore the stinging. The sick pleasure that accompanied the motion was not his own, but Noah had felt it like it was.

Reaching the side of his bed, she grabbed one of his hands with her unbroken one. "Noah," she said softly. She didn't know what else to say. "It's gonna be okay."

"No. No! Look at me!" With one fluid motion, he ripped the sheet off his legs, revealing a white cast. "I _did_ this to myself. I can't walk! And look at yourself!

"And oh God oh God oh God! I killed Aunt Jan! You let them in! It's your fault you let them in it's because of you!" Noah's words dissolved into one, long, indistinguishable tangent.

Clinging to his hand, Cara refused to let go, needing some kind of anchor, even if that anchor was quickly sinking into dark, murky waters. She didn't say anything, just allowed the tears to silently stream down her face .She hadn't processing anything, but at least now she was expressing some kind of emotion. And at least Noah wouldn't hold it in, like she always did.

So Cara just knelt on the side of the bed, letting him weep for the both of them.

* * *

After Sam's constant nagging, Dean finally went to the cafeteria to scarf down a soggy breakfast burrito and a scalding cup of coffee. He hadn't meant to fall asleep last night, but had woken up just a few hours later, in the early morning, feeling guilty and groggy.

As he rounded the corner to Cara and Noah's room, Dean paused. Alice was leaning against the doorframe, hand clenched around the knob of the door, barely open a crack.

Coming from the room were the soft sounds of sniffling and quiet voices.

"Are they awake?" Dean asked-more demanded-rushing up to Alice.

She glanced at him and nodded softly.

"Why the hell are you just standing out here?" He didn't realize how harsh his words came off until he saw the stinging slap it landed on Alice's face. "I'm sorry I-"

"What am I supposed to say to them?"

"What?"

Flailing her arms, Alice pointed to the door, lowering her voice. "I can't even walk in there to face them because I don't know what I'm supposed to say! How am I supposed to look them in their broken little faces and tell them everything is gonna be okay?! Because you know it's not! Dean _I'm_ broken! And I can't even _imagine_ what the two of them must feel!

"We were supposed to keep them safe, Dean! And I can't protect them from anything." The last sentiment had a million tiny fissures in it, indicating Alice was barely holding on.

Moving closer to her, Dean smoothed back her hair and gently kissed her on the forehead. He folded his arms around her. "I'll take care of it, Allie," he said simply.

Pulling away, Alice looked at him with disbelief. " _How?_ And you what about you, Dean? Sam told me about your Dad. You lost your father, I lost my-I lost Jan. Our children have lost _everything_ and we're just supposed to tell them everything is okay?! We are in _way_ over our heads. We always have been!"

"Hey, _hey."_ Trying to get her attention, Dean gripped either side of her face. "Listen to me and believe me when I say _everything will be okay._ I'll make sure of it."

She wanted to ask him _how,_ but she was too exhausted to fight anymore. "Fine," she said, looking away from his intense gaze. "Fine."

With a sigh, Alice stitched herself together enough, so she wouldn't look like a mess in front of her children.

* * *

There was an abrupt silence as the door swung open. Cara and Noah stiffened and watched quietly as their parents slowly entered the room, with careful expressions on their faces.

Alice frowned slightly, when she saw the sight in front of her. "You should be in bed, Cara." Descending into nurse mode, Alice helped Cara climb back into bed, careful of her broken ribs.

From the side, Dean watched in amazement as Alice pulled the sheets up over Cara, and readjusted Noah, kissing him on the forehead. Just a minute ago, he had watched as she struggled to even enter the room, believing she didn't know what to say to her children, that she was in over her head. She didn't have faith in herself like Dean had in her. But, it was so natural, so instinctive, for her to walk into the room and just _know_ what to do to comfort her children, even if she didn't realize it.

Done fussing over them, Alice seemed to become self aware, and slowly moved to stand next to Dean, who was staring at his children with a mixture of sadness and anger.

The two kids stared back, blankly.

"I think there are some things we need to talk about," Alice finally said. She pulled back the two chairs that were situated between the beds, and placed them so they faced Cara and Noah. She and Dean slowly sat themselves down.

"What? Demons?" Noah asked.

"For starters," Dean said, slowly.

"Okay," Cara said. "Go ahead."

Dean and Alice looked back and forth between each other. This was a conversation Dean didn't want to have with Alice, let alone his kids. And Alice? Anything she had heard about hunting ended up in pain, misery, and death.

And now?

They were gonna tell their kids about it.

With a sigh, Dean felt himself reach across and grab Alice's hand. He needed a grounding feeling right then.

"Monsters are real."

It wasn't completely out of the blue after everything that had happened, but it still managed to floor both kids.

"They're real. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires-anything you could think of."

"And demons."

"Yes, Noah: and demons."

"And...I hunt them. I have, my whole life."

Cara's head swivelled to her mother. "Did you know?"

Alice nodded. "I've known for a couple years now, baby."

Remembering the words Phenex used to project out of Cara, the young girl felt something resonate inside of her. " _That's_ why you've been lying to us our entire lives? All the times you left with no explanation, and all those times you came back with bruises and-" The words petered out as everything began to fall into place.

"Hunting monsters is kind of the family business. Sam and I have been hunting together since he left Stanford. And before that, we both hunted with our father until-"

"Jan was a hunter, too," Alice spoke up, noticing how Dean couldn't seem to get the words out, when talking about John. She knew John was a complicated man who had complicated relationships. And he left a complicated mess after his death.

" _Was,"_ Noah spat. "Because I killed her."

"What? Noah, no-"

"Because I was gonna stab _you_ instead, but she jumped in the way." Looking down at his hands, they began to shake when Noah began to imagine the blood that had spattered over them, after the knife had penetrated Jan's chest cavity.

Springing up from the chair, Alice immediately collected Noah in her arms, one hand cradling his head into her shoulder. "No, baby, no. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's never been your fault and it never will be. No one blames you. Not even your Aunt Jan would."

From where he remained, nestled in his mother's arms, Noah caught Cara's guilty gaze. She was the one that had let them into the house, but he was the one that knew something was gonna happen.

Was it possible it wasn't either of their faults?

"Can demons read minds?" Cara asked, softly, directing her attention to her father.

"I think so."

"Cause it could read my mind. But I could read it's too. It worked for Azazel? The demon that killed Grandma Mary and Jess. Right? He was the one that sent them."

Dean clenched his teeth, wishing _so_ bad he had been able to put a bullet into one of those bastard's yellow eyes. Instead, the demon was gone, the Colt was gone, and behind he left a great, smoking crater in the middle of the Winchester-Mercer family.

"Yes, Cara."

"But _why? Why?_ Why our family? Why can't they just leave us alone?" Seeing the beginnings of a breakdown, Dean moved towards his daughter, and hugged her tightly.

She couldn't understand why bad things happened to their family over and over again. And Dean, who desperately wanted to take his kid's pain away, could not explain why either. Because he didn't understand himself.

There was no explanation for the evil that decided to curse his family.

* * *

The next morning, Cara was released from the hospital, after it was determined the blow to her head was at best, a mild concussion. As for her ribs, there wasn't much to do other than rest up. The hardest part had been explaining how her ribs had been broken-her father tackling her into a work bench-as she hadn't remembered exactly.

But after her release, Alice had taken Cara home from the hospital, so she could rest in her own bed. And not wanting either of them left alone, Dean had begged Sam to go back to their house with them as protection.

That left Dean alone at the hospital with Noah.

And as for the young boy, he was still a bit weak from the blood transfusion. The main concern of everyone was his leg. With a broken knee, he was going to be in a cast for a few months. He didn't need any surgery, which was at best, a small silver lining. But he would need intensive physical therapy for a long _long_ time, even after he got the cast off.

"What if I can't play football again?" Noah had asked, when it was just him and his father. Dean had been in the process of teaching him Texas Hold 'Em, anything to distract Noah from the physical trauma and mental scarring.

With a sigh, Dean set down the cards. There were so many tiny loose ends he and Alice were going to have to pick up, things they couldn't even think of. Being possessed by a demon as a child were going to impact both kids in different ways, probably for the rest of their lives, even in ways that didn't seem related.

"You heard the doctor. You're young and you'll have a full recovery. By the time you're in high school, you could be the star quarterback." It was gonna be hard, but Dean didn't think Noah needed a reminder of that right then.

"I'm a running back," Noah said quietly, sadly.

Realizing Dean had no idea what the hell that meant, he felt even worse. He didn't know anything about the things his kids liked.

A sudden idea sparked in his mind. Determinedly shoving the cards to the side, Dean pooled the loose change into a pile. The coins had been makeshift poker chips, but now, they were going to serve a different purpose.

"So Noah, I realize I don't know all that much about football. But maybe like I was teaching you how to play poker, you can teach me football. Let's pretend these coins are the players. Show me what each positions does and how it all works."

Noah's eyes lit up. "Really? You want me to show you?" He asked excitedly, hopefully.

"Sure do, buddy. Teach me everything."

"Okay!" Noah immediately began to arrange the coins in formation. "Let's start with offense. Since this is a quarter, he can the the quarterback...and the dime can be the running back. Pennies can be the offensive linemen…"

With a flurry of motion, Noah delved into the explanation of one of America's greatest sports, and for a little while, forgetting Hell had been in his head.

* * *

"The body's starting to get pretty ripe, Sam," Bobby said, over the phone.

Sam cringed at Bobby referring to John as 'the body', but that's what he was. "I know, Bobby. And I really appreciate everything you're doing. There's just...so much _shit_ going on right now. And I don't know what to do. You know?"

Bobby sighed. "I know boy, it's been a terrible past couple days."

"And I tried to talk to Dean about driving up there for a day to give Dad a proper hunter's funeral, but he doesn't wanna leave Alice and the kids undefended."

"Right," Bobby said.

"And Alice can't come up with us because she has to make funeral arrangements for her aunt. And those kids are in no shape to be travelling."

"I really don't want to rush you boys, and I know you need to be here for this. But Sam, you know your father would want the burial done ASAP."

"I know. Bobby?"

"Yeah boy?"

Sam chewed on his lip, contemplating whether or not to share the question that had recently bubbled to the forefront of his mind, when he thought about his father. "It's kinda weird...Dean wakes up from a coma perfectly fine. And not even an hour later, Dad drops dead out of the blue. The Colt's gone...there's no trace of the demon.

"Did...my dad make a deal to save Dean?"

The line was silent for a moment. "I think you know the answer to that."

Tears began to prick Sam's eyes. "I should go, Bobby. I'll call you tomorrow."

Without even saying goodbye, Sam hung up, sobs hitting before he even had a chance to put the phone down.

* * *

The concussion made it hard to read. But Cara tried to power past the blurry print, by blinking every few seconds. There were several open books in front of her, and she held a blue pen in one hand, circling things, and occasionally jotting things down.

Cara's bedroom door flung open suddenly, Alice entering the room, a glass of water in one hand and an orange pill bottle in the other. "Cara, you can have some more pain medication now. It's been-"

Alice stopped talking. In front of her, Cara was painfully hunched over her desk, with several open books. A glittery pink notebook was open in front of her, with handwriting so illegible it didn't even look like English.

Smiling fondly at how much Cara loved to read, Alice placed the water and medication down. "I know you like to read, but you need to let your eyes rest, and also lay down so your ribs don't hurt." Leaning over Cara's shoulder, Alice plucked up one of the books, that looked like a leather journal, with handwriting in it.

"What's this?" Frowning, Alice began flipping through the strange book. There were pages and pictures about all sorts of legends and monsters. Closing the book, she saw the initials J.W. on the cover.

"Cara, where did you get this?"

"Mom-"

"And what else are you reading here?" Alice grabbed a familiar book, her own personal copy of _Paradise Lost._ She then pulled up a bible. The last book she pulled up alarmed her as much as the journal, that was apparently John Winchester's.

The last book was a small and red, with gold letters reading _Daemonologie._ A book that, no doubt, gave all sorts of information on different kinds of demons.

"Cara Clementine, where did you get this?" Alice asked, lowly.

It was evident her injuries weren't about to get her out of the trouble she was in. "I found it."

" _Where?_ And where did you get this?" Alice held up the demon book in one hand and the journal in the other. "Because I sure as hell know you didn't find these in _this_ house."

"I found them in Uncle Sam's bag."

"You _found_ them in his _bag?"_

"Fine. I took them out of his bag."

"First of all, Cara, you are not allowed to go through your uncle's stuff. Second of all, you should not be reading these."

"I'm just trying to make sense of what happened to me."

" _Third_ of all," Alice said, choosing to ignore her. "You should be in bed. _Resting."_

After she was directed into bed, Alice watched as Cara swallowed the pills, and carefully set the glass on the nightstand. Sighing, Alice took a seat on the edge of the bed. "You should sleep."

Glancing past her mother, Cara looked at the stack of books on her desk. "I'm confused."

Alice frowned. "About what?" Was she still disoriented from getting hit on the head?

"About what a demon is. Some of the books say they're fallen angels, but others say they're souls of bad people who died and went to-"

" _Cara._ You don't need to be reading that. I mean it. But...if you need to read something, you can read this." Getting up from the bed, Alice went to Cara's bookshelf and pulled out the first picture book her hand reached for.

"Here."

As her glasses had been removed, Cara squinted at the cover. " _Where the Wild Things Are?_ So you do want me to read about monsters?"

Realizing her faux paus, Alice snatched the book away. "You need to sleep. Your eyes need to rest. And _promise_ me you won't try to read about monsters or demons anymore."

"I promise, Mom," Cara said, grudgingly.

"Good." She placed a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep. When you wake up, Dad will be here and I'll be at the hospital with your brother."

"Okay," Cara said.

As Alice left the room, she took the pill bottle, the notebook Cara had been writing in, and the stack of books she'd been reading.

Once the door closed, Alice located Sam, sitting in the living room. On the coffee table Noah had once shoved Cara into, she slammed the stack of books down in front of him.

Sam looked up quickly at the sound. Alice noticed his eyes were red, like he had been crying. She contemplated asking him what was wrong, but where would she even begin? Instead, they both chose to ignore that, and she waited, as Sam frowned at the stack of books. Noticing John's journal on top, Sam reached for it, and then saw his copy of _Daemonologie_ underneath that. Sam frowned, waiting for an explanation.

"I found those in Cara's room. She was researching demons. Apparently she went through your stuff."

A bit surprised to hear that, Sam nodded. "She was...researching demons?"

"Evidently." Alice handed Sam the illegible scribbles in the journal. "I don't know if her mind is still muddled from getting hit in the head, but I can't even read what she's writing."

Sam took the paper and squinted at it. Something hit him after frowning at the scribbles for a few minutes. Setting the notebook on the table, he began to flip through _Daemonologie_ before holding up a page for Alice to see.

Leaning forward, her face fell as she read the heading. "Demon sigils?"

Sam nodded running a finger down the page. "Yeah. And it looks like the ones she were drawing was to ward them off. She was trying to figure out sigils used for protection."

Taking the book from Sam, Alice flopped down onto the couch, hand cradling her head. "Cara thinks she can find the answers to all of her problems in the pages of some book."

"Well, maybe she can find some of them," Sam suggested.

"She gonna find the answers for why her parents are so terrible in any of these books?" Alice asked, half joking, but a little bit serious.

"You're not a terrible mother, Alice. And Dean's not a terrible father. But no one has perfect parents. Parents are just people that make mistakes and can't fix every problem. But I think they always do the best they could."

She mulled over the words for a moment. "No. Not mine. They didn't do the best they could. They tossed me out like I was a stray."

"We're not our parents, Alice," Sam said, the words resonating, as he realized John's body was rotting away on some sofa in South Dakota.

"I know that…"

"Then that's all there is to it," Sam offered.

"Right, of course. You're right." Nodding along, Alice felt like a puppet as she agreed. It seemed like for days, she had been taking and offering empty condolences and assurances. She didn't believe it when Dean said everything would be okay, and she sure as hell knew it her kids didn't believe it when she said it do them.

The entire family was spinning out into the dark void of space, but they all acted like their feet were firmly on the ground.

* * *

 **A Few Days Later**

* * *

"You need to go," Alice said into the dark.

"What?"

Sighing, Alice sat up and reached over, flipping on the lamp, resting on the nightstand. The room was filled with light.

Dean, who had been laying on his back, scooted up against the headboard, turning towards Alice.

"What did you say?" He asked again.

"You need to leave."

Dean frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sighing, Alice reached forward and took one of his hands. "You need to go and bury your father."

Retracting his hand, Dean stared at her like she was speaking a different language. "No. You need me here."

Covering her mouth with both hands, Alice closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to shut off the light and lay back down, and pretend like she hadn't said anything. But her mind wouldn't stop whirring. She couldn't stop thinking of how they were frozen in time in this house, in this room, in this night, and how both of them needed to do what they needed to do, so they could move on.

"Look, Dean...I'm not asking you to leave and never come back. Both kids are finally out of the hospital, in their own beds. And maybe..things can start to settle down soon.

"I love you, but you need to go and say goodbye to your father. Both you and Sam. Because right now? You're stuck."

Alice watched him carefully, but there appeared to be now response. Dean stared at the end of the bed, expressionless, and motionless. It was as if he had turned into a statue.

"Dean did you hear me? I'm not kicking you out. I just need you to give yourself some closure. And when you're done and ready, you can come back. I _want_ to to come back. And we can heal together as a family."

"There's no healing from this," Dean intoned.

"I know so much has happened to you-"

"You don't know everything Alice," Dean snapped, pushing away her attempt to comfort him, physically and mentally.

"Then tell me," she said persistently.

"You don't wanna hear this."

"Yes I do."

No response.

"Dean: _yes I do."_ Alice grabbed him by the chin and turned so he looked at her. "I do," she said, more softly.

Observing her, Dean placed a hand over hers and watched at how her eyes flickered across his face for some sign of weakness, a chink in his armor.

"Please talk to me," she said softly.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, looking away from her. She was beginning to find the chinks in his armor.

"Dean, please."

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling her soft hand run up and down his arm. "Please." Her voice was barely audible.

"We were in a car crash."

Alice glanced up. "What? When?"

Dean sighed, jaw clenching. He began to run a finger up and down Alice's palm. "After we found the demon. The bastard possessed my dad, taunted us. It ripped up my chest pretty bad. I guess I'd lost a lot a blood so I was in and out. But Sam managed to shoot the thing in the leg and get us into the Impala. But…"

Sensing the hitch in his voice, Alice was about to ask, but remained silent, afraid she would spook him out of telling her the painful recollection.

"Before we could get to the hospital, a semi truck rammed into the Impala. She got crushed like a tin can. Baby's at Bobby's right now."

Alice chewed on her lip. "I was wondering why you weren't driving it."

"Well _that's_ why. But the car crash? It banged us up real bad. According to Sam, I was already pretty injured. Alice, you don't know how bad it was."

"How bad?" Alice found herself whispering.

"Bad. I was in a coma. Apparently I had swelling on the brain."

"Oh my God."

"The doctors didn't think I was gonna wake up." Dean refrained from mentioning how he had apparently been a spirit that communicated with Sam through a ouija board. Not only did he not remember it, he knew Alice needed as few reminders of the supernatural as possible.

"Then how are-"

"Because my dad made a deal." It was something that had been whirring around in Dean's head for awhile, but he hadn't wanted to accept it. After everything that had happened, Dean didn't want to think about that, but all answers pointed to the same heart wrenching conclusion.

"A deal?"

"To save me."

"Like...a deal with the devil? Like Faust?"

Dean frowned, ignoring the second half. "It seems so. I wake up out of nowhere, completely fine. And then, not even an hour later, my dad-who was perfectly healthy-drops dead with no explanation. The only weapon we had to kill the demon is gone, and so is the demon.

"And then, not even five minutes after my dad's pronounced dead, I got the call from you."

Feeling her skin crawl at house close the events had taken place, Alice began to realize she and her children were being terrorized by evil as Dean woke up from a coma and subsequently lost his father. She understood why Sam was so worried about him now. Dean had been given no reprieve over the past couple days.

"My God, Dean. I'm so sorry." She didn't know what else to say, so she just let the two of them bask in the silence and the loss; it was something they could both understand.

Dean shut his eyes, remembering John's last words, whispered into his ear, as the last few grains of sand ran out of his father's figurative hourglass. And some of the things John had told him were things Dean wished John had taken to his grave. Because now? Dean was going to have to carry those sentiments like a weight. And the things John had told him were things he could _never_ repeat to someone else.

"I know I need to say goodbye to him but…"

"I know, Dean," Alice murmured. She pressed her lips to his hand.

"I can't leave you and the kids here, unprotected."

Alice didn't want him to leave, either. She was terrified something else would happen again. And she knew if she told him to stay, Dean would never get the chance to see his father one last time. It sickened her she had that kind of power over him in that moment, and if she was selfish enough, she could make him stay forever.

But for his sake, he needed to go.

At least for a little while.

"You have to. We'll be okay for a little while." They _had_ to be okay. Alice had to make sure of that.

"We both have people we need to say goodbye to, things to take care of."

Dean slowly nodded, not believing himself that he would willingly leave Alice and the kids in a time like this.

"Then I guess I'll go tomorrow morning."

"I guess so," Alice said. She scooted down, closer to Dean. "But for now? Stay the night."

* * *

The next morning was tough.

Sam and Dean left early, giving candid goodbyes to the children, who were confused and blindsided by their departure, even if it was only for a short while. No one had mentioned John had died until when the adults had no other choice. And as vaguely as possible, they mentioned he had gotten hurt by a monster, and had ultimately died. The explanation was poor, but Cara and Noah were still tailspinning, so they didn't question it. And although Cara and Noah had only met the gruff man once, it was another family member they would strangely mourn and miss.

When the boys were finally gone, Alice made arrangements for Jan. She would be sent to be cremated. And then later, when Alice had more of an idea of what kind her aunt would want, Alice would have a ceremony for Jan.

The rest of the day was spent with Alice pacing around the first floor, redrawing the salt lines every now and again. She compulsively checked to make sure she had silver and iron knives, and a loaded gun on her person at all times. Loaded guns had always spooked her. But now that she knew the damage monsters could inflict, she wouldn't hesitate to use it if she had to. If it meant protecting her children.

Cara and Noah remained upstairs. Still on bedrest, Noah spent most of his time in his room. Ever since his father and uncle had left, the sounds of crunching metal and breaking glass played in his ears like annoying tinnitus. He was willing to do anything to distract from the sounds, including doing some annoying math homework he'd been putting off since they went to Jan's.

Keeping him company, Cara sat at his desk, head still swimming, as she tried to remember some of the sigils she had managed to write down before her mom had stolen the paper. She was just glad her non-dominant hand had been broken.

With her back to him, Noah couldn't ignore the sounds in his head anymore.

"Was someone in a car crash?"

"A car crash?" Spinning around, Cara turned to her brother.

"Yeah. Ever since... _that_ night, I've been hearing these sounds in my head."

"What sounds?"

"Like glass breaking. The sound a car makes when it runs into something."

The first time Noah tried to tell Cara something was wrong, she hadn't believed him.

But this time, she listened.

She frowned. "I don't know. Do you still hear it?"

"Yeah."

"Like right now?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know," she said, a little more unsure. "I don't know."

"Neither do I."

"We'll figure it out." Cara was shaky in her assurance, but she figured it was better than nothing.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Cara. But it's scaring me."

"We'll figure it out," Cara repeated, turning back to the paper.

"I hope so," Noah muttered, closing his eyes, letting the sounds of crashing take over his senses.

* * *

 **San Casciano dei Bagni, Italy**

* * *

A salty breeze blew across the small cafe on the Italian seaside. A woman, with pinned back curly hair, gingerly sipped her cappuccino. "Ah," she breathed in, leaning back in the wicker chair. A pair of large sunglasses rested on her face.

" _Ciao,"_ said a voice.

Opening her eyes, the woman sat up, pulling down the sunglasses. " _Si?"_ Standing over her was a young man, obviously foreign. He had a blonde mustache, and a lithe, athletic body.

The man frowned. "Do you not recognize me?" The accent was Eastern European.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"I would hope so. We possessed _that_ woman together. All those centuries ago? Just over that hill?"

Lightbulb going off, the middle aged woman looked surprised. "Nero?"

"No, Sonja. It's me: Talla."

Looking a bit less than enthused, the woman, possessed by Sonja, slumped back down. "Oh."

" _Oh?_ I haven't seen you for so long and all you can say is 'oh'?"

"Like I said-" Sonja took a sip of her drink. "-I was hoping for Nero. Well...actually, I was hoping for no one. But if I did have to hope for someone, it would be Nero. Why are you a man?"

"Why are you an old woman?" Talla shot back. Wrenching out the other seat, she sat down.

Less than pleased, Sonja shoved the sunglasses back on her head. "Because I am."

"What are you doing here?" Talla finally asked.

Sonja shrugged, looking out at the sea. "You know how long it's been since I've been to the Mediterranean? I didn't think I'd ever see it again."

There was a scoff. "I always knew you were one for sentiment. Coming back to where you were born and where _Saint_ Maniglia became a saint."

"I'm still mad we never got a fruit basket from the Catholic Church for that," Sonja responded out of the corner of her mouth. "Or at least a card."

Talla leaned forward. "But why are you _here?_ I've been looking for you."

"Decided to go on holiday."

"Like I'm sure _you_ needed a holiday from Hell."

"Not just from Hell. But maybe if you wanted a break from it too, you should get better at climbing out of the Pit. And at least you could've brought Nero with you. He's fun."

"If Nero wants out, he can claw his own way out."

Sonja shrugged. "Fair enough."

Talla watched Sonja for several moments. She was relaxed and poised. Two things Sonja never was. She had always been a bit chaotic and out of control, but it was a guise to make up for how pathetically harmless she was.

"You know...you've always reminded me of those delusional little Arkansas farm girls that wanted to go to Hollywood to become big stars."

"And are you here to give me my big break?" Sonja asked in a sarcastic, starry voice.

"No, dear. Haven't you heard the news?"

"What news?"

Talla tried to keep the smile from entering her face. "John Winchester? He's dead. Made a deal with Azazel."

"That yellow eyed creeper? Why?" Sonja's lip twitched slightly at the mention of both John and Azazel. John had been the one to torture Sonja and her family, but Azazel had been the reason why he'd done it.

"To save his son."

"Hmm."

"But that's not even the best part."

"I'm sure you're glad John Winchester's dead. Because I know you were so afraid of him bla bla bla-"

"Janet Sutton is dead."

"Umm... _what?"_

Talla smirked. She knew the pitiful vendetta Sonja had against Jan. All because the woman exorcised her once. Talla was glad she got to be the one to rub it in Sonja's stupid face.

"Murmur and Phenex killed her."

"I _hate_ those two! They're such children!"

"Oh irony," Talla laughed.

"Why is that ironic?"

"Well, they were actually possessing Cara and Noah Mercer when they did."

" _What?_ How did _those_ two manage to get anywhere near that family?! I tried _so_ many times and never even set a _foot_ in that _godforsaken_ house!" Sonja had always overestimated what a threat she really was.

Talla cracked a small grin. It was _so_ easy to make Sonja angry. And _so_ fun. It was the least she deserved for leaving them in Hell all those times.

"It was because Meg sent them. On Azazel's orders, of course."

"That bitch. I'm gonna _kill_ her."

"Too bad. She's downstairs."

" _Fuck,"_ Sonja hissed. She had spent all of her time fixating on Janet Sutton, and now the deceitful hag was dead.

"Sonja."

" _What?"_

"It's time for you to come home."

She scoffed. "You mean Hell? No thanks. I think I'll stay up here and drink sixty year old aged wine on the beach instead."

"Your family misses you," Talla said.

" _Still_ not worth it."

"You want to know why I came here?" Talla asked.

"To rub it in my face that Janet's dead?"

Talla smirked slightly. "I guess two reasons then. The first though? I'm here to recruit you."

"For what?" Sonja asked, sounding like a disappointed child.

"Come with me and work for Azazel."

Mouth dropping open, Sonja removed the sunglasses. " _Scusami?"_

"Azazel has what he wants for now. But, he needs boots on the ground to be his eyes and ears."

"No."

"All you have to do is spy on the Winchesters and report back to me. You don't even have to see him."

"Still no."

"Why not?"

Sonja stood up, face reddening. "I don't know if you remember, but we got tortured by John Winchester because he thought _we_ knew something about Azazel killing his stupid wife. So no. I'm not gonna work for the psycho who's the reason I got tortured."

"Can't you just let it go?" Talla rolled her eyes.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm petty."

"Oh _I_ know."

"You don't have to take everything as a personal assault, you know."

"It _WAS!_ Am I the only one who can't forgive and forget?!" Sonja threw her arms out to her sides. Perhaps it didn't make sense that she was angrier with Janet Sutton than John Winchester, but in her twisted, petty mind, it made sense. Yes, John had tortured them, but that was it. But Jan had toyed with her like she was a doll, and had made her feel small and stupid. And _now,_ she was dead and gone.

Starting to get mad, Talla gripped the edge of the table to keep herself composed. "No one's forgiving _or_ forgetting, you imbecile. _This_ is how we get revenge on his family."

"I'm not talking about the Winchesters-I could give a fuck about them at this point-I'm talking about Azazel!"

"I would be careful what you say about him," Talla said darkly.

"Why? And why do you care about some has-been?"

"Because he's raising an army. And when he does, you don't want to be on the wrong side," Talla cautioned.

"There's no _sides._ It's every man for himself. Like it's always been."

Talla shook her head. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"I'm not working for that bastard. And I'm sure as hell _not_ working with Murmur, Phenex, or Meg. Or any of Azazel's asshats for that matter."

"Listen, Sonja, I'm losing patience," Talla said. "Your entire plan to kill Janet Sutton backfired. And she's not in Hell so you can't torture her there. _Get over it_ and work for something that actually matters. Because all of us are on board with Azazel. You're the only one that's not."

Not liking the sound of the ultimatum, Sonja sneered. "Then I'm the only one that's not."

Flipping the small table suddenly, Talla grabbed Sonja by the hair, bringing her close. "Maybe the others found you endearing, but I always thought you were a pain in the ass."

"Then leave me alone!" Sonja hissed break. She tried to push Talla away, but found she couldn't.

Noticing Sonja's putrid attempts, Talla laughed. "You really were always the weakest link, you know. The only thing you were good at was running away. And evidently, you weren't even very talented at that.

"You're coming back to Hell with me, Sonja. And this time? You're not leaving."

Before Sonja could attempt to pull away, Talla grabbed the other demon by the throat. With a tremendous amount of force, Talla pushed off the ground, forcing the both of them into the sea.

There was a loud splash, and the waves rustled for awhile.

And after a few minutes, there was nothing but still water.

* * *

 **Days Earlier**

* * *

She had seen something strange out the window.

As soon as Cara stepped over the threshold outside, she was surrounded by black smoke. Encased in the feeling of pain and anger and desperation, she began to scream at the top of her lungs. But the smoke cushioned any sound, redirecting the screams back into her own ears as they were pushed back down by the smoke forcing it's way in. Coughing against it did no use, and once all the smoke was sucked down, Cara, now Phenex, suddenly straightened up and turned gracefully, like a ballerina.

Still outside, Phenex looked into the house, up the stairs, at the small boy half hidden at the top. "Noah," she whispered. "Noah, help!"

Jolting, Noah came more into view.

Phenex glanced over her shoulder at the cloud of smoke hanging nearby. Murmur would get a vessel soon enough.

"Noah. Something's wrong," Phenex croaked, trying to make her voice sound weak. "Help."

Upon seeing the little boy had not moved, Phenex fell to her knees and let out a soft cry. Good thing her acting was up to par as it was the only way to get him out of the house. She wouldn't be able to step inside, as the entire thing was a gigantic demon-trap.

Seeing Cara in pain triggered something in Noah, and he rushed to the bottom of the stairs, but stopped at the edge of the doorway.

"Oh God what's happening?" Phenex cried. She began to claw at Cara's throat.

Needing that final push, Noah stepped out of the safety of the house, towards his sister. "Cara!"

And just as he knelt over her, Phenex was up, eyes blinking black. "Not Cara."

Seeing the dark eyes, Noah was immediately catapulted to the dream he had when Dad was dying of heart failure. He remembered being at the bottom of the grave where those sick Hanratty brothers were leaning over.

They'd had black eyes.

Yelling, Noah reached behind him and grabbed a potted plant that was nearby. He swung it as hard as he could at Phenex's head. Instead of crumpling, the pot merely cracked in half as dirt rained down on both of them.

Shoving Noah to the ground with such force, he skidded across the lawn, Phenex waved over her shoulder. "Go ahead, Murmur. He's all yours."

The last thing Noah saw was a sea of black over his eyes.

* * *

Alice awoke to the sound of screaming.

Bolting out of bed, she saw it was barely light outside as she followed the sounds to the backyard. Forcing the back door open, Alice tripped out, gasping at what she saw.

Cara had a gash on her head and she and Noah were screaming on the ground, clutching at their faces, skin burning. Jan stood over them with a bottle in one hand and a crucifix in the other.

"JANET STOP!" Alice yelled.

"They're demons, Alice!"

"What?"

"They're-" As Jan was about to speak, Noah was off the ground. From the doorway, Alice watched as he grabbed Jan by the arm, and flung her in an arc over his head, like she was a rag doll.

Alice let out a scream and Noah turned to look at her.

His eyes were black.

"Alice call Dean!" Jan yelled, out of breath. Moving quickly for her old age, she pressed the crucifix against Noah standing nearby. He yelled in pain and fell to the ground again.

Frantically, Alice grabbed her cell phone and punched in his number. She held it to ear ear, chewing on her lip, watching as Jan sprayed holy water on them, in between bursts of Latin.

"Hello?" Dean finally said into the phone.

"Dean, where are you?" Alice yelled. She hung onto the back door like her life depended on it.

"I'm at a hospital in-" And as he said that, Noah had appeared from out of the garage, a baseball bat held high above his head. While Jan was focusing on keeping Cara at bay, he snuck up behind her, bringing the bat down over her skull. There was a crack and Jan felt to the ground, limp.

Both children-or whatever the hell they were-swiveled to Alice, eyes still pitch.

"Save us, Mommy," Cara crooned in a strange voice.

"CARA! NOAH! _NO!"_ Alice screamed at the children in front of her, that were so obviously not the kids she knew and loved.

"Alice? What's going on? Alice!" Dean was yelling into the phone, but the object was wrenched out of her hand and crushed by Cara, as if it were a piece of paper.

Backing away, Alice looked at the blood smeared on her hands. Her head was spinning and she didn't know what it was from.

Stumbling backwards, Alice just made it to the backdoor, gripping it tightly, as Cara and Noah came up behind her and wrenched her away from the door, easily.

They dragged her towards the garage, each holding an arm.

"Please let them go! Take me take me! They're just kids! I'm the one who you should-"

She was shoved into the garage, the door shutting behind her. She could see Jan slumped over in one corner of the room.

"Please let them go," Alice cried, begging one last time as their tiny figures cast large shadows over her.

"It's us Mommy. We're your babies," Noah crooned.

Both children blinked once again, their eyes turning back.

Alice screamed so loud, it was amazing the ground didn't shake.

* * *

 **This chapter took a lot to write, but it was very rewarding, and quite fulfilling. I hope it was worth the wait :). The next one or two chapters should be wrapping up Season 1. And then we're onto Season 2!**

 **Please review! I've had this chapter planned for a really long time and I'd love to know what you guys think!**


	31. Last Will and Testament

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-One: Last Will and Testament**

* * *

Crackling flames drew back the shadows, creating strange, dancing patterns of light across the faces of two grieving brothers. Their eyes blinking against the heat of the fire, Sam and Dean stood side by side, watching silently as the destructive force licked away at the rotting body of John Winchester. The body had been wrapped in a white linen and placed on a wooden pyre Bobby had erected as the boys drove up.

Once the brothers reached the isolated house in the middle of the night, Bobby poured gasoline over the body and pyre, then lit a lighter, gently tossing it into the wood. The pyre caught immediately, and Bobby stood with the boys, watching as the fire grew larger and larger. And once John's body was finally engulfed in flames, Bobby stepped back from the boys. "I'll give you two some time. Be inside if you need me."

The older man retreated to the house, and left the brothers in silence, where they were now.

Turning to his older brother, Sam watched as Dean stared intently into the flames. "Before he...before...did he say anything to you? About anything?"

Only his mouth moving, Dean didn't look away from the fire. "No. Nothing."

* * *

It was the next morning that Sam woke up to the sound of metal hitting metal. Sitting up in bed, he saw the sun was barely up. Wiping the ashes from his eyes, he felt his heart pitch at the smell of smoke that still lingered around the room.

Still intrigued by the sound of metal, Sam peered out the window, down into the salvage yard. He saw the Impala's gleaming, warped metal reflecting the early morning light. Underneath the car, he saw a pair of jean clad legs. Dean was tinkering away at the underside of the Impala, and Sam wondered how long they'd been out there, as it had barely been five hours since they said goodbye to their father.

Down in the yard, Dean allowed the sounds around him to drown out the tsunami of emotions and thoughts swirling through his head. He knew he needed to get back to Alice, but John's ashes were still burning with embers. Feeling like he was being pulled in two different directions, Dean didn't know what to do.

So instead, he worked on his car.

"How's the car coming along?" The voice was muffled by the underside of the car, but Dean pulled the wrench away and huffed. He knew Sammy was gonna try and pull some Dr. Phil crap on him, and Dean contemplated pretending like he didn't hear him.

"Slow," Dean responded gruffly, resuming his work.

"Yeah? Need any help?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"What, you under a hood? I think I'll pass." He tried to keep his voice light, but it was hard to keep the irritation out, knowing Sam's trivial conversation was just a way to catch Dean off guard.

"Need anything else, then?"

Dropping the tool, Dean pushed himself out from under the car and stood, wiping grease and dust off his pants and hands. "Stop it, Sam."

Looking startled, Sam asked Dean what he meant.

"Stop asking if I need anything. Stop asking if I'm okay. Really I'm okay. I promise."

"Dean, we barely burned our dad's body even a day ago. And before that, your two kids were in the hospital. Alice is shaken up. And her aunt's dead. We've barely had any time to process what's happened to us, especially you. And now, you're out here working on the car. Did you even sleep at all last night?"

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Dean-"

"I'm gonna go back to Alice's tomorrow," Dean said suddenly. "She has some things to take care of and doesn't want the kids alone."

"The Impala?" Sam asked, deflating. He knew he'd lost his window of opportunity. Dean was shutting down and there was no way he would talk about anything important now.

"Like I said, it's coming along slow. Bobby'll have another car I can take. Or I'll just jack one."

"How are they doing?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, and glanced down at the Impala. "They're tough. They'll be fine. I'm gonna shower."

Sam watched as Dean walked away, noticing how quickly his tune had changed since Cara and Noah were in the hospital. Dean had barely been able to hold himself together, wondering if his kids were ever going to be whole again. And now, here he was telling Sam the children just had to dust themselves off and then they'd be as good as new.

With a sigh, the younger brother kicked a nearby tool in frustration.

The list of things that were wrong just kept growing. Dad was dead, the demon and Colt were gone. His niece and nephew had been possessed and broken by demons. And now Dean was closing himself off, leaving Sam scrambling.

* * *

The next morning, like before, the sun was barely up when Sam was awoken by the sound of muffled rock music. Rolling to a side, he opened one eye and watched Dean collecting his things, shoving them into his bag. The older brother didn't notice and continued to pack a there was a pair of headphones on his head, the iPod blasting heavy metal music into his ears at full volume.

Sighing in aggravation, Sam swung his legs over the bed and stood. He quietly moved across the floor and stood a few feet behind Dean. With crossed arms, Sam stared at his brother in irritation.

Dean, busy packing, and letting the music wash away any emotions he might have been feeling, turned around, coming face to face with his brother.

Entire body stiffening, the iPod disconnected from the headphones, clattering to the ground. And with no weapons located nearby, Dean grabbed the closest thing he could use to defend himself.

Smirking slightly, Sam shook his head at the pairs of socks Dean held over his head like he was about to sling a blackjack.

Once the scene had caught up with Dean's reflexes, he dropped his arm and took a breath. "What the hell, Sam?"

"What's the point of using headphones if I can still hear it from across the room?" Sam pointed out, as Dean pulled off the device, rolling up the cord.

Turning his back to his brother, Dean shoved the headphones in his bag. "Didn't realize it was that loud. Sorry if I woke you."

"Don't worry about it," the younger brother said fleetingly. Watching as Dean continued to backSam crossed his arms as and frowned at Dean's turned back. "So what? You were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?"

Dean's motions stopped, and his shoulders noticeably tensed. "Didn't want to wake you up."

Sam scoffed lightly. "Sure Dean. It's just...Look-Dad's been dead for days. You've barely spoken a word about him. You're acting like Cara and Noah are perfectly fine and you're shutting everyone out."

Trying to keep his face neutral, Dean didn't let his little brother know he was spot on. Instead, Dean composed his face into a sarcastic smirk. "You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." He let the shit eating grin spread across his face, even though it was almost painful.

Sensitive, the compassionate look dropped from Sam's face. _So this was how Dean was going to deal. "_ Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, your kids are beyond traumatized, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened!"

Feeling like a deflating balloon, Dean shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car."

"Revenge, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam responded flatly. At least he was being honest with himself.

Dean shrugged, like he was willing to listen. "Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it-oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing. Okay? So you know the only thing I can do is go look after my damn kids." God knows he's been away long enough.

At a loss, Sam looked around the room as if he was going to find an answer there. "What about your car?" He asked, lamely.

Dean looked in the other direction as he spoke. "It'll still be there when I get back." He patted Sam's shoulder. "Call me if you make any sense with Dad's research."

And with the slam of a door, Sam felt like he had lost a father and a brother in one fell swoop.

* * *

Sitting on the rocking chair in the family room, Alice stared at the fireplace. Her hands were gripped tightly around the armrest of the chair. Her back barely touched the back of the chair. She hardly rocked, as her feet were planted on the floor, only allowing for the easy, natural back and forth of the chair to occur.

Her gaze remained steady. It was the morning, and both kids were still asleep. Still traumatized from being possessed by pure evil, that warranted a few sick days off from school.

But honestly? Alice never wanted them to be without protection again. She had proven herself to be quite useless when it came to protecting her kids, but that didn't mean she couldn't try to ward her house like Janet had done to hers. And rationally, Alice knew she could not be with her kids all the time, but right now, she didn't think of that.

She just stared at the fireplace.

It felt like she had been staring at one place for hours-it was surprisingly easy when she had a million ideas bouncing around in her mind. But while she was staring, it seemed like those ideas were trapped behind a very thin, glass wall. But still very thin.

That thin, glass wall had stood for hours, it seemed. But it only took a very gentle tap for the minute surface to break, causing all the ideas and memories to come flooding back to the forefront of Alice's brain.

There was the feel of soft flesh of the side of Alice's face, one that caused her to jerk to the side, in the opposite direction of the track of the rocking chair.

Coming back down to the gravity of carpet beneath her feet, Alice swung her head in the direction of the contact. Only a few feet away from her, on the sectional sofa, was Dean.

Frowning, Alice tried to contemplate his presence. He'd been gone less than seventy two hours, but it'd felt like a lifetime. "Dean," she said hollow voice. As she rose from the chair, it creaked hollowly, and she marvelled at how he had gotten in the house without her hearing him.

"I didn't hear you come in," she finally finished.

"I was quiet," he responded.

Alice frowned. He wasn't known for being quiet. He was always smiling and quite proud of his entrances. But this time? She hadn't heard him at all.

"How are you, Dean?" Alice asked softly, changing the subject of her mind. She stood from the chair, watching where he sat at the edge of the couch.

"I'm fine."

Watching as his eyes darted down, she severely doubted that. "You sure?"

"I'm fine," Dean repeated.

She knew his prized car was smashed and he had just burned his father. Alice turned her gaze to the fireplace, once again.

Dean followed her gaze. "You finally got the ashes?"

Nodding slowly, Alice stared at the silver urn sat atop the mantle. It was wedged between a picture of Cara and Noah, when they were a toddler and baby, respectively, and a picture of Alice and Dean when they were teenagers. Alice couldn't quite remember who had taken the latter picture.

The urn was engraved with Jan's full name, birthdate, and death date.

And Alice knew her aunt would've hated it.

"Yeah, I finally got them." She paused. "You must've left Bobby's early."

Dean shrugged noncommittally. He had left the crack of dawn, unable to shake off Sam's words. "I couldn't sleep."

Alice hadn't been able to sleep either. "How's your car?"

"I'll get her going soon enough."

Alice felt herself nodding along. Alice's head moved back and forth, the silver urn bobbing from the different edges of her vision.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the uneasy quietude pulling Dean out of the glass bubble he was in. His own existence bumped up against Alice's and he noticed the heaviness that hung around her like widow's mourning veil.

"She died a hero," Dean said, in a poor attempt to reassure her.

"She saved our children," Alice agreed. Her aunt had died a tragic death, but Alice knew it was never something Jan would've held against her.

But that wasn't what was bothering her.

"What do you think happened to her?"

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Like after death. I don't know what she believed in. She was raised Catholic, but knowing how devout my grandparents were, I doubted she believed in anything. But just because she didn't believe in anything doesn't mean there's anything after death. So doesn't that mean she can be in Hell-if there is a Hell-just because she didn't believe in a Hell?

"Or is she gonna come back as a vengeful spirit? Her death was bloody and violent and you said that was what it took for ghosts. We saw what happened with Amy Kindcaida. What if Jan comes back as something completely different?

"Or what if she just ceased to exist after death? What if-like that Norman Mailer book said-cremation really does atomize your soul? What if she's just gone, like she never was even here?"

"She _was_ here," Dean said simply. He stood up and pulled Alice with him. He need to move. Because sitting there, her words her staring at him, a reflection of exactly what he was thinking. Only he _knew_ his father was in Hell. And there was nothing he could do.

Dragging her to the kitchen, Dean sat her down on a stool. Opening the high cabinet over the fridge, Dean pulled out a mostly full bottle of SoCo. He personally hated the stuff, but it was good enough for now. He grabbed two coffee mugs and plopped the contents down on the counter.

Looking a bit disapproving, Alice glanced at the clock. "Don't you think it's a little early for-"

Ignoring her, he poured her a drink and slid it towards her. "I think it's understandable, Allie."

Relenting, Alice grabbed the drink and took a sip. She hadn't really had hard alcohol since the night in Devil's Lake, when she and Dean had gone on the hunt. Because of what had nearly happened that night, she'd tried to avoid it for awhile.

"Look, I know you probably have a million thoughts in your head, trying to make sense of shit that devastating and confusing all at the same time. But Allie, _trust me:_ Janet Sutton, of all people, is probably on a white sand beach somewhere in the sky, drinking a Tequila Sunrise and getting a foot massage from a hot poolboy."

The speech was meant to be reassuring, and it was. Alice cracked a small smile into her drink. "Wow that's _awfully_ specific, Dean. You've obviously put a lot of thought into that. Are you sure that's not your own fantasy of what happens after death?"

He smirked. "Nah. I wouldn't be caught dead drinking a Tequila Sunrise." He sobered up again. "I wish I had answers for you, but I don't."

"I know. But just thanks for being here, Dean," Alice said, softly.

She leaned across the counter and pulled him by the front of his shirt, catching in a kiss.

* * *

The sky was a muted gray. It hung like a hazy blanket over the land. Cold wind blew from the water to the beach, where a trio sat, staring out at the choppy, angry waves of Lake Michigan. Between the waves breaking along the sand and the howling of the wind, it was so easy for the barrage of thoughts in Dean's mind to be quieted.

Closing his eyes, Dean leaned his head back against the chair he was slumped in. Besides being in a coma after the crash, Dean couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than two hours at a time. But here, on the shore of the lake, listening to the wind and the waves, he was almost fooled that he could fall asleep right then and there.

"Dad?"

Turning his head to the right, Dean glanced at his daughter. She sat on her own lawn chair beside him. A tartan blanket was wrapped around her, making her appear even smaller.

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"How old you were when you started hunting?"

Dean immediately stiffened. "Why?" he asked, watching her closely.

Noncommittally, Cara looked down at the ground. "I was just wondering."

"It's not something you need to worry about," Dean replied briskly.

"But you were young, right? Like our ages?" Noah piped up. He sat on the other side of Dean, crutches leaned against his chair. He was using the small cooler they had brought to prop up his broken leg.

"I'm not talking about this," Dean responded. He caught Cara and Noah leaning forward, locking eyes with each other, as if silently communicating something.

"So you won't teach us how to hunt?" Noah asked abruptly.

Shooting up from the chair so forcefully, the thing folded. Dean turned, fuming. "Is that what you two have been talking about?!"

Chastised, both kids look down.

"You two have barely been out of the hospital for a week and you think I would even _consider_ handing you a gun? You're out of your minds."

"But what if I need to protect myself in case something bad happens again?" Noah asked.

Dean stared at the crutches. "You don't need to be able to protect yourself because I'll make sure nothing bad happens again. You think I'd let something hurt you ever again?"

"That's not what you told us before," Cara said.

Dean turned to look at his daughter. "What was that?"

"Don't you remember? The water made me remember. After we drowned, you took us back to the pond and told us to jump in. And do you remember what you told us?

"You told us terrible things would happen to us. And you told us we couldn't count on anyone but ourselves. The water made me remember," Cara repeated.

Suddenly want to skin himself, Dean remembered standing in front of an even younger Cara and Noah, telling them how cruel the world could be. But, at the time, he didn't think anything bad would ever happen to them again-he swore he wouldn't let it happen.

But it had.

He had been right, and now his kids were using his own words against him.

"Yeah. You told us we needed to be strong and brave. But how can we do that if we don't know how to protect ourselves?" Noah asked. It was apparent the two had talked about this in depth.

At a loss, Dean didn't know what to say to them. Instead, he turned around and clasped his hands together, locked behind his head. With shut eyes, Dean's teeth ground together as he composed himself.

After several minutes, he finally turned back around to his injured children. How could he teach them to hunt? They were broken, and too fragile to even brave the cold of the wind.

"Dad, I didn't understand what you meant then, but I do now. I understand that we have to be able to take care of ourselves," Cara said.

"We don't blame you or Mom for what happened," Noah agreed.

Unable to listen to them, Dean turned once again and took several steps to the water, but stopped, afraid to go even a few too many steps away.

From behind him, the two children looked at each other. Although neither of them really felt like children anymore. They had been broken and violated by demons, seen what true evil looked like. Cara had felt what it was like to relentlessly beat her father and the pleasure that came with it. Noah had felt the soul of his great aunt leave through the knife that had taken her life, all by his own hand. Their understandings of the world had been devastated, shattered.

And now, they had to figure out how to rebuild everything.

Looking past his father to the water, Noah watched the white-capped waves rise and die endlessly. The boy became mesmerized by the waves, feeling their hypnotic push and pull. While the waves crashing seemed to have a pattern, perhaps they were really more chaotic than organized. Although he didn't have a word for it or understand completely, Noah had learned the lesson of entropy. For him, life had always had a predictable pattern to it. He thought he knew everything he was ever going to know and that nothing could really ever break the boundaries his mind used to define the universe he lived in .

But really the rules had been thrown out and Noah found himself in a universe that adhered to no code or pattern.

Anything could happen now.

"So you won't teach us to hunt?" Noah asked. It didn't seem like his father was going to turn around and respond anytime soon, and Cara seemed at a loss for what else to do. So if something was going to happen, it seemed like Noah was going to have make it happen.

Still, Dean didn't turn around. Noah just watched his father's shoulders rise closer to his ears.

"It's in our blood," the young boy reasoned. "On your side _and_ Mom's."

"You think your mother would ever let you hunt?" Dean was so quiet. With is back turned, Noah wondered if perhaps he had just made up the voice in his head.

Deciding it wasn't enough, Noah realized he had one last thing that would get his father's attention. "Where's your car?" Dean winced at the mention of that.

With wide eyes, Cara stared at her brother. They had discussed the weird premonitions he'd been having, but she didn't think he was ever going to tell their father until the two of them had more of an explanation for what was going on.

"At Uncle Bobby's."

"Why haven't you been driving it?"

Dean didn't respond. He still faced the water, so Cara and Noah had no idea if he was boiling with rage or had tears streaming down his face.

"Were you in a car crash?"

The volume of the howling wind and crashing waves increased, as the shock swelled from within Dean.

Spinning around, Dean strode over to his son and stood over him, shaking with all the emotions he had been trying to hold back. "How do you know that?"

Noah's eyes widened, making him look just as surprised as his father. "Wait...you were?"

"Who told you? Was it your mother? Or was it Sam?" Reaching a state of pent up confusion, anger, and sadness, Dean gripped Noah's shoulders, and began to shake him, hoping the answer would fall out of him.

Alarmed, Cara jumped up from her chair, wincing as her ribs ached. She grabbed one of her Dad's arms with her uninjured hand when she saw Noah hanging onto the chair handles for dear life. "Dad. DAD!" She yelled, trying to get his attention away from Noah.

Realizing what he was doing, Dean was pulled from the sea he was lost in. Getting a grip on his emotions, Dean locked them down before kneeling down in front of his son. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react like that. But I need to know how you knew about that."

A bit shocked by his father's powerful reaction, Noah looked over at Cara, who was in the process of sitting down. He could tell she was in pain from the way one arm was curled around her torso, as if trying to protect her broken ribs. We she returned to her seat, she let out a tired sigh.

Turning his attention back to Dean, Noah looked past his dad's shoulder, out to the water. "I heard it."

"From who?" Dean urged.

"Not from someone. I heard it in my head."

Dean's expression changed slightly. "What?"

"I was sleeping when we were at Aunt Jan's. And then, one night, I woke up because I was hearing a car crashing in my head. But it wouldn't stop. It just kept going."

Paling, Dean sat back on his knees. They had been in the car accident while Alice and the kids had been at Jan's. "Yes. We were in a crash. Me, Uncle Sam, and Grandpa John."

Suddenly remembering when Dean had been electrocuted for going after that Rawhead, and given a month to live, he remembered Sam relaying a dream Noah'd had. One where Tyler and Jason Hanratty had black, demonic eyes. There had been no way of Noah knowing that, but somehow he'd seen then in his dream.

And Dean thought it had just been a coincidence.

"And that's not even the first time it's happened," Noah continued.

Dean's stomach rolled.

"Even before we went to Aunt Jan's and everything with Murmur...I had this feeling something bad was gonna happen."

"You were probably-"

"I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think of anything else. Dad, I _knew_ something bad was gonna happen. I don't know how to explain it. I just _knew."_

He didn't want to make the parallel between his brother and son, but Dean couldn't help but think of Sam's strange premonitions. They too had started as uneasy feelings and nightmares. Sam's visions scared the shit out of Dean. But the idea of his son having the same affliction was something his brain couldn't even seem to process.

"Noah…" Dean's voice trailed off, at a loss for what to say. There were no words that he could find to comfort his son, or any to say even in response.

"It's true," Cara said quietly. She had seen how Noah had become a ghost when the premonitions were like battering rams against his brain. Of course, she hadn't known that was the reason why.

Turning around once again, Dean bit down on one of his knuckles. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt a tear begin to slip out. Angrily, he swiped at the stray tear, internally cursing himself for being unable to lock down his feelings.

"Daddy?" It was Cara's voice. It was so soft and quiet and vulnerable, that for a moment Dean forgot she was ten years old.

There was a tug on a sleeve like there used to be when Cara was half the size she was now. That was how a toddling, little Cara had always gotten his attention, by saying his name softly and pulling on the edge of his sleeve.

And that was what he was expecting to see when he looked down: a little girl, untouched by evil and pain. But when he went to look at her, he was jarred by the sight, as if he had somehow forgotten what he was going to see. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but it couldn't hide the white cast on one arm, the way she was hunched over at the waist, arm clutching at her ribs, or the hairline scar from the concussion. Beyond her, unable to stand, was Noah. The cast on his leg was bulky that it was hard to miss. Only the angry, scar on his arm was hidden. Both kids had hardened expressions that seemed out of place on their innocent faces. But Noah seemed to have something beyond that, some heavy weight that was rested on his small shoulders. Maybe that was ghd subtle, but noticeable indication Noah was in fact having visions. And perhaps Dean had just mistaken it for the trauma of being possessed by demons.

"I'm here," Dean replied to Cara, glancing meaningfully at his son as well.

Observing him carefully for a moment, Cara finally made some decision in her head. She held up a hand to her father. "Why don't you sit down?"

Allowing himself to be led back to where their set up, Dean sat and watched as Cara painfully lowered herself to her chair. He wondered how long she would be in pain whenever she moved, and he wondered how long it would take for Noah to be able to completely recover.

Catching his father staring at his broken leg, Noah sighed. "We'll be okay, Dad," Cara said, hearing the shakiness in Noah's voice.

Feeling like he was stuck, Dean just nodded.

"We're gonna be okay," Cara assured once again.

After that, both children turned their gaze to the water. The sound of the waves and wind once again cocooned the family, creating soothing cushions against their ears, which eventually lulled the two children to sleep.

Once Dean realized he was the only one awake, he pulled the blankets higher up on his children and finally let out a shaky sigh he'd been holding in since Cara and Noah had asked him to teach them how to hunt.

It was just one more thing that was added to the list of shit that was floating around in his mind.

But like everything else, Dean pushed it back and locked it down. He stared out at the water, wishing everything would be washed away with the waves

* * *

She stopped. Just short of the rusty, waist high gate.

With her eyes locked on the dark house that now seemed so foreboding, Alice had flashes to standing the same exact spot more than a decade earlier, back when her parents had disowned her and sent her to live with her aunt. It had been the first time in years the teenaged and pregnant Alice had seen her aunt, a point where she barely remembered the house.

Similar to how she felt so long ago, there was a feeling of dread, like Alice was on the verge of throwing up.

But now, she felt the same way for completely different reasons. When she was a teenager, she was afraid what was in the house. But now, she was afraid of what wasn't in the house.

Pushing forward, Alice swung past the rusty gate and ascended the steps, stopping once again at the heavy door. Feeling like she was intruding, she shakily unlocked the door and swung it open.

Still on the other side of the threshold, Alice looked into the dark house, hearing the creaks and groans of the old place.

Freezing for a moment, Alice contemplated bolting, but then immediately felt like a coward afterwards.

 _Don't. After everything she did for you, this is the_ least _you can do. Don't disrespect her memory by being afraid._

Gaining a little more resolve, Alice took a deep breath and finally stepped into the house, and slammed the door shut behind her, sealing her in the place that had saved her, had been the first home her children had known. It was the first place she finally felt accepted and wanted.

Now that she was actually there, part of her wanted to walk around every square inch of the house and reminisce, but she stopped short of walking down the hallway, to the kitchen. For in the kitchen, there was the backdoor that led to the backyard, and ultimately, the detached garage. As the place that had been where Jan was killed, and Cara and Noah had been tormented. It was the place where Alice almost watched her children die and watched her aunt die.

Alice didn't want to see it.

After they had gone to the hospital, Dean used his connections and reached out to hunters who had gathered to essentially sterilize the garage. The ones that had heeded the call were those who wanted to pay their respects to Jan. Those hunters ranged from good friends to simply working a single hunt with her Uncle Don. But all the same, she appreciated that they had come together to try and erase the terrible memories from that garage, so that her family could have some peace of mind, and also to prevent any badges from sniffing around the area.

Not wanting to linger in the foyer anymore, Alice heavily climbed the stairs, feeling them sag in the familiar spots, where there was a loose nail. She ghosted past the rooms where she and her children had lived. At the end of a hall, there was a door that had always remained shut. When Alice lived there, the understanding that she would get to live there included the unspoken condition that she would never go into that room.

There was only one instance in which she was to enter.

It had happened when Dean was in the hospital after the heart attack and Jan had drove there with the kids. Before her aunt had left, she'd pulled Alice aside. In a sudden flood of emotion, Jan had told Alice that if she ever died, everything she would ever need to know what to do was in a secret compartment in the back of the older woman's closet. Jan had promised Alice never to mention it or try to look in it until the woman was dead, gone, and nothing but ash.

With those requirements met, Alice was finally able to peel back the bedroom door that unstuck like it was glued to the wall. The room seemed to be encased in a tumultuous quietude; the natural sounds of the house could not permeate the bubble Jan's personal space was existing in.

Closing the door, Alice felt like the pressure was being sucked out of her ears.

Then, she stood and looked around the room in amazement. On the back of the door was a small tapestry of the Hindu goddess, Parvati, and her many arms held outwards.

Frowning, Alice looked around the rest of the room. There wasn't much, just a bed, vanity, dresser, and closet doors, with few decorations around the room. On the floor, there was a red and gold Oriental rug that looked expensive. On the vanity there was a hairbrush, several hair bands, and some unmarked perfume.

The bed was lazily made. The paisley printed covers were pulled back, but it was loose, like someone had inconsequentially threw the covers over the bed. There was only one pillow.

Alice came to stand before the dresser. It was plain, with three drawers, made of a dark wood. Hands moving across the surface, Alice touched some of the artifacts atop the surface. In a crystal dish, there was a golden rosary and a diamond ring. Nearby, a stone buddha statue sat, untouched and peaceful. Back along where the top of the dresser and wall met, was a small stack of leather-bound books. Among the pile were copies of the Koran, Torah, Kama Sutra, as well as several others in other languages. A little bit out of place was _HitchHiker's Guide to the Galax_ y. But the one that caught Alice's eye was a crumbling, little red book.

It was at the bottom of the stack, so Alice displaced the other books to retrieve this one. Her hands shook as she looked at the tiny thing. In gold text on the front and spine it read "The Holy Bible."

Alice recognized this. For her mother had an identical one in Alice's childhood home.

Opening the front cover, Alice saw a handwritten note in black cursive.

 _May 9, 1954_

 _Dear Jannie,_

 _We are so proud of you on the day of your First Communion. May this book serve as a reminder for the love God and we have for you._

 _Love,_

 _Dad, Mom, and Sherry_

Feeling tears beginning to prick her eyes, Alice slammed the bible shut and placed it back on the dresser. There was the same exact note in her mother's own version of the bible. It was just so crazy to her how Janet and Sherry had had the same upbringing but had ended up becoming two completely different people.

Remembering that the real answers were held in the back of the closet, Alice opened the folding door and pushed aside Jan's wacky collection of clothing.

As promised, there was a faint outline of a square on the back wall of the closet. It took some prying, but the piece of drywall finally became dislodged with a small explosion of dust.

Setting it down, Alice knelt, inside the closet, and began to pull objects out. At the front, there was what appeared to be a Latin bible, a small, bronze revolver, and a silver knife with a wooden handle.

Realizing what they had probably been used for, Alice carefully placed them to the side and reached further inside. The only thing left in the small compartment was a manilla envelope. There was nothing written on the outside.

Alice was captivated as she rose from her knees, staring at the envelope. This must have been what Jan was talking about.

Taking a seat of the edge of the bed, Alice slowly opened the envelope, and pulled out its contents.

At the top of the stack were a few sheets of loose leaf notebook paper written in messy handwriting. Beneath that were several white envelopes with names on the front, and several photographs stacked underneath that.

Returning to the sheets of paper that were on top, Alice felt she should read that first, as Jan had probably put the contents in a certain order. She squinted at the first line of words and almost burst out crying.

 _The Last Will and Testament of Janet Maureen Sutton_

Wiping her eyes, Alice moved the other contents of the manila folder the side, two shaking hands clutching the paper.

She read the letter from beginning to end.

 _The Last Will and Testament of Janet Maureen Sutton_

 _So...I guess I'm dead. I mean-right now while I'm writing this-I guess I'm still alive._

 _But if you're reading, that means this is the story of some terrible stupid catastrophe and some of its consequences...or something like that. Hmm. I think that may be from some book._

 _Anyways, title it obvious. This is the red button to push when I die. And based on who I've told what when, Alice, this letter is probably mostly for you. So here goes._

 _I don't know since I finally kicked the bucket because of old age but I'm rewriting this. And I'm putting you incharge of my estate and all my possessions. At this point, I know you know about the supernatural world, and if you're reading this then maybe that means something got me before I could get it. But just tell me I didn't die like a punk._

 _So for my last wishes. This is the part where I rewrote this so many times. As I wrote this, I thought maybe I had no right to ask you of this, but the older and deader I got, the more I thought "you know what, fuck it, I'm either old/dead and I can do what I want."_

 _So, I know I've told you this a million times, but when I die, the first thing you should do is burn me. I don't care if you need to start a fire in my backyard or send me to a crematorium. There's no point on wasting thousands of dollars on some golden casket that's just gonna go in the ground for all time._

 _And after you burn me, I need you to do a big thing that will probably be the hardest. Although I was never your mother and you were never my daughter, I still considered you one. But still, I wasn't a good enough one._

 _My kids._

 _My own kids_ _probably don't even call me their mother anymore. I haven't talked to them-any of them-in ten plus years. But still, I'm gonna be selfish in death and ask you to reach out to them. As my dying wish, I hope that they would come together to honor me in the last moment. Maybe that's a ridiculous thing to ask, but if you could just_ ask _them, that would mean the world to me. And maybe if they say no, they can tell you why they hate me so much._

 _But just know I never stopped loving you Piper, or my little granddaughter, Merrill. I never stopped loving you Olivia. I never stopped loving you Seth. I loved them until my dying breath, and I loved you, Alice and Cara and Noah, like you were my own children and grandchildren until I finally bit the dust._

 _And if by some miracle, you reach out to them and tell them what happened and they agree to say goodbye to me, I have one more request. When Don died, we burned him and then sprinkled his ashes in Lake Michigan. Did you know that's the reason we came to Chicago? He was born and raised here, but honestly, I couldn't stand the place. All the people, noise, and pollution. But there was one thing both of us loved. It was that lake. And for me-and you-who grew up in the middle of Bumfuck, Nebraska, it was basically the ocean, the entire world. So my final wish is that my ashes be sprinkled in the lake. I'm pretty sure that by any religion's standards, I'm going to hell, but at least in this way I can be with my Don one last time._

 _And one last thing, that may seem strange, but I need you to deliver one of the following letters, labelled "Nina" to a restaurant on the South Side. It's called_ Chimegas. _You won't be able to miss it. Just walk in and ask for Nina. She still works there. Trust me._

 _Anyways,_

 _I feel like I've been writing for an eternity, but evidently it hasn't been that long._

 _Hopefully actual eternity doesn't feel this long._

 _With all the love I have,_

 _Jan_

* * *

The letter was crumbling beneath her hands.

Panicked breaths caused Alice to drop the letter in a state of panic. She couldn't look at the words anymore, that sounded to painfully like her aunt, one who had been so flippant about death, yet had apparently paid homage to the most popular religions.

She ended up kneeling on the side of the bed, her tear-soaked face pressed against the poorly made bed. Her mind swirled around her three cousins: Piper, Olivia, and Seth. The ones who hadn't talked to their own mother in ten years; the ones she'd managed to mostly forget. At first, it made Alice mad that they hadn't talked to their own mother in ten years. But after a bit of contemplation, she realized she had done the same. The block of sadness was only broken up by a chunk of understanding before she became angry with them again. How could they abandon a woman like Jan? An understanding, kind, tough woman? It's not like they had grown up with Sherry as a mother, a woman who was so strict, cold and religious where nothing was ever good enough.

Moving away from the anger she had for her cousins, and the new obligation she had to call them now, there was still one thing that remained on Alice's mind.

Jan hated Chicago.

Maybe it wasn't a groundbreaking revelation, but Alice always thought Jan was a farmgirl with starry eyes for a big city. But she'd been wrong. Jan had hated Chicago the entire time, and the only thing anchoring her to it were the lake and the fact the love of her life loved this place. And yet, after Don died, Jan could've moved anywhere in the world.

But she hadn't.

She stayed right where he had always lived and breathed.

 _That_ was true love, Alice decided.

Gaining a bit more resolve, she began to shuffle through the rest of the contents of the envelope. There were three letters addressed to each of Jan's children. Alice briefly wondered if she should mail them or deliver them in person.

But then, after seeing the letter addressed to someone named Nina, she realized she should deliver them in person. But that made her think: who the hell was Nina?

In reality, there was so much Alice didn't know about Jan, but she still wondered about this one person who had been significant enough, to the equivalent of her own estranged children, to leave a letter for after death.

Next, Alice shuffled past the four letters-for Piper, Olivia, Seth and mysterious Nina-and looked at the pictures.

The first one made her heart hurt. It was black and white and was a picture of two little girls, ribbons in their hair, hugging in front of a Christmas tree and fireplace. Alice knew it was Janet and Sherry on Christmas when they were young.

The next was a young Janet. She was in college in this one, wearing a short, pleated skirt that showed her pinstick legs. Her hair flowed backwards in the wind. It had been a dark chestnut color before it turned gray prematurely. Next to Janet in the picture was a young man with stylish dark hair, wearing a letterman jacket, arms wrapped securely around the young woman. They were both smiling brightly. Alice knew that had been one of the first dates Don and Jan had been on.

The next picture included five people. It was Don and Jan older than before with three children. The children ranged from preschool to late elementary school in age. The family was all wearing plaid and seemed to be standing in a forest. The oldest child and the two parents had shotguns slung over their shoulders. Jan, Don and their three young children must have been at the hunting cabin the family had in Northern Wisconsin. The picture was easily more than twenty years old.

The last picture jumped ahead in time and surpassed several burned bridges. It was a young Alice holding a small Cara and Noah on each knee, smiling and laughing at the camera. Tears coming harder at that picture, Alice tried to think of the last she'd laughed that hard. She couldn't remember.

Gently laying everything down, Alice stood up from the bed and contemplated out the window for a moment.

This had been the house her very estranged cousins had grown up in. She had been there once as a child, before living there for several years as a young adult with two children. Although she didn't know the complete scope of what had happened in this house, she knew tears of sadness and joy happened in this house. She knew life and death started here.

And she knew, despite everything, she would do what Jan asked.

And like Jan had, she would move forward and live, even when the world seemed to be falling apart.

* * *

 **That's it! I hope the first portion of this story was worth the wait!**

 **I wanted to ring in this new year with a new season. So with that, That's Season One, folks! I'm sorry it's been two months since I've updated but I'm going to try and get on a more recent updating schedule.**

 **We're onto Season Two and we're going to meet Jan's estranged kids and some other fun things!**

 **In other news, I'm planning on keeping this one fic for now. I have a natural progression of different stories I plan of splitting this saga up into. If you want to keep it in one giant story. Please let me know. Because, as of now, I am thinking on splitting it into about three-four different stories.**

 **And lastly, I want to thank everyone who has favorited or followed. I'm up to 100 followers which is amazing!**

 **I hope to see all of you in the next season!**

 **Happy 2018,**

 **V.**


	32. The Wound That Would Not Heal

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two: The Wound That Would Not Heal**

* * *

 **Summer**

* * *

Wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead, Noah sighed, glancing around the room. "Cara?"

No response.

With a huff, he removed his leg from the coffee table. There was a heavy thud as the cast slammed down onto the ground. "Cara!" Noah tried again, but to no avail.

Glancing around the room, Noah spotted his crutches on the other end of the couch. He contemplated leaning forward to grab them, but instead slowly rose up on his good foot, trying to put little pressure on the cast. It hurt, but Noah just bit his tongue and hobbled forward, arms stuck out the keep himself balanced.

As he walked from the couch, towards the window, Cara appeared in the doorway. In one hand, a book was held right in front of her face. In the other hand, she had a sweating glass of lemonade.

Evidently not seeing or hearing Noah, she walked straight into his path, the two colliding. Noah immediately collapsed to the floor like a dead weight. Able to stay upright, the lemonade and book flew from the young girl's hands.

Flustered, Cara noticed her brother on the floor, and his crutches leaned unused against the couch. "What do you think you're doing?!" She demanded, grabbing him under one arm to hoist him up.

Wincing as Cara helped him stand, Noah motioned around the room. "I was trying to open a window! It feels like a hundred degrees in here!"

Once Noah was situated back on the couch, Cara stood over him, hands on both hips. "And you decided to try and open it without your crutches?" She retorted.

"They were too far away. I called you but you were too buried in your book to hear me."

Scoffing, Cara bent down and picked up the book, throwing it on the coffee table beside him. "Yeah and thanks to you, because you think you're Superman, I have to clean this up before Uncle Bobby sees the broken glass and the mess _you_ made."

" _My fault?_ You're the one who had your nose shoved in a book!" Noah picked it up. "Demons? _Again?_ And you're lucky that Dad's been outside all day. If he saw you reading that-"

"And if he knew you were walking around without your crutches-"

"Well sor- _ry_ I hate having this stupid thing on. You have no idea how hot and itchy it is."

"Sure I do," Cara responded. She had retrieved a broom from the kitchen and was in the process of sweeping up the broken glass.

"Yeah, well _lucky you_ , you got your cast off before it really got hot. And you know, all I wanna do is run around outside but I can't do that because of this stupid thing! You're not even hurt anymore and all you do is sit inside all day reading about monsters!"

"What do you want me to do about it?" Cara asked, annoyed.

"I'm just saying it's not fair."

"Well, maybe if you listened to the doctor and used your crutches when you were supposed to, you could get the cast off faster. And since all you're doing is sitting there complaining, maybe you could pick up a book too and learn something for once."

Flopping back down on the couch, Noah glared at his sister, but didn't say anything. They had been at Bobby's for a few days. School had been out for a few weeks-but it's not like they had gone back after the demon incident.

They had come to Bobby's to give Alice time to try and track down and talk to her cousins, as well as take care of some other things. That was right. Aunt Jan had children. Perhaps internally Cara and Noah both knew that, but it was something that was never discussed so both of them wondered if they had just made it up. Evidently not, as that's what their mother was off doing.

Noah had heard his parents discussing what would happen. Alice needed to go off on her own and find her cousins, but Dean insisted he help her. However, Alice said it was something she needed to do herself and that the kids needed to rest. Noah was quite surprised his mother had been the one to suggest he and Cara should go with their father to Bobby's.

And now, that's where they were. Either kid barely saw their father, as he was outside most of the day, tinkering away at the car. Sam would come around occasionally, but also disappeared for large chunks of the day.

While the brothers were attempting to cope, Bobby had given in and started to teach the kids about the lore of monsters-mostly by Cara's insistence. Noah just wanted to learn how to hunt, but apparently to do that, he actually had to _know_ about what they were hunting. He supposed it made sense, but it still irritated him Cara had hijacked it and turned it into a makeshift summer school.

They had to do this on the down low, for ever since they had tried to bring up hunting at the lake, their father hadn't uttered another word about it. Both kids said they wouldn't bring it up again.

At least not to Dean.

But most of the time, when he wasn't learning about the lore, Noah sat around doing nothing, as he wasn't allowed to do much of anything for himself.

"I'm _so_ bored," he said, after a couple minutes. Cara had finished cleaning up the spill and had returned to her book. He didn't understand how she didn't lose her mind of boredom from reading.

Without looking up from the book, Cara tossed another one at him. "Here. You wanna be a hunter, right? While your leg is healing why don't you actually learn about what you apparently wanna hunt."

"I thought you wanted to be a hunter too."

"I do, but I actually _learning_ things."

Growling, Noah reluctantly opened the book. "This is the worst summer _ever,"_ he complained.

* * *

A small bell tinkled over the door leading to a dimly lit Mexican restaurant. Glancing around the small joint, Alice slowly approached a young busboy, busy clearing off a table.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"Seat yourself," he said robotically, not bothering to look up. "Someone will be over to take your order soon."

Alice stiffened, almost frightened away. "Sorry, I'm not here for...I'm looking for Nina? She works here, right? Does she work today?"

"She's on break. Alley. Out back." Still not looking at her, the young man brushed past her, arms full of dishes, on his way back to the kitchen.

"Right. Thanks." But the young man was already gone.

Slowly, Alice exited Chimega's and glanced down both directions of the sidewalk. There were alleys on either side of the restaurant that probably turned into one big one. Not exactly enthralled to be where she was, Alice felt for the pistol at the small of her back. Never had she thought she would actually carry it around, but the area she was in wasn't actually known for it's safe neighborhoods.

Looking down the dark alley, Alice gulped. "I must be an idiot. But if I get murdered in there, I'm blaming you for that, Janet."

Checking the gun was there one last time, Alice thought she was insane, but slowly disappeared from view into the dark alley.

* * *

Wiping his face with a grubby bandana, Dean growled internally as he saw his brother once again approaching. Ever since they had come back to Bobby's, when Sam wasn't researching, he was constantly riding Dean's ass.

"What do you want, Sam?" Dean demanded gruffly. He'd lost any and all patience with his brother. This was the fourth time today Sam had come out, asking him it he needed anything.

Trying to hide the wounded expression on his face, Sam just shrugged. "The car looks good."

Turning around, Dean tossed the bandana away. "No it doesn't. It looks like crap."

"How are the kids?"

"Why don't you them yourself, Sam? They're not even thirty yards away."

Sam shuffled his feet. "You want some water? Or a beer maybe…"

Spinning around so fast he startled Sam, Dean composed himself slightly, and dropped the wrench in one hand, trying to remain calm. "Sammy...I swear to _God_ if you ask me how I am one more time I gonna knock you flat on your Sasquatch ass. I'm the same from when you asked me two hours ago."

Realizing the charade was up, Sam dropped the act. "Fine, I won't ask again." He pulled out a cell phone in his pocket. "But we've got something, alright? It's what I came by here to tell you. This is one of Dad's old phones. Took me awhile, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this."

" _John, it's Ellen...again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."_

"This message is months old," Sam said, flipping the thing shut and putting it back in his pocket.

Dean frowned, wiping his hands on his shirt. "Dad saved some chick's message for that long?"

"Apparently." Sam shrugged. I didn't sound like something John would do, but then again, it didn't seem like either really knew that much about their father.

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

Sam shook his head, feeling pleased that Dean was finally talking to him again, and coming out of his everything-is-fine-I'm-fine shell. "No, but I ran a trace on the call and got an address."

Glancing back at the Impala, Dean sighed. "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

* * *

She was right. The two alleys did split into a long one, the backs of buildings on either side creating a creepy, unsettling pathway.

Coming to what was the back of Chimega's, Alice spotted a woman leaned against the wall opposite of the restaurant. One hand mindlessly traced patterns into the brick, while the other held a cigarette loosely to her lips.

The woman looked to be in her early to mid thirties. She wore ripped light wash jeans, a white baseball style tee with olive green sleeves, and a black waitress apron around her waist. Her short hair was tied up into a ponytail. Her bangs stuck to her face. She wore heavy eyeliner and had a nose piercing.

Alice watched her carefully, trying to figure out if maybe she somehow knew the woman, Nina. But nothing, from the appearance to mannerisms registered with her at all. What did some waitress on the South Side to to receive a letter from Jan, considering the only other people that got letters were her estranged children? Whatever if was, Nina must've left quite the impression.

Entering the alley quietly, Alice looked around. There was the sound of dripping water from some indiscernible location. The sunlight was blocked out by the close buildings on either side.

"Excuse me. Are you Nina?" Alice asked. She had meant to sound confident, but it sounded weak and wavery.

Immediately straightening, Nina stepped away from the brick wall she leaned against, putting out the cigarette with her boot. "Who are you?" She asked, watching Alice with dark, guarded eyes.

Stepping closer, Alice rubbed the back of her neck. "See...that's kind of hard to explain."

"How did you find me? And how do you know who I am?"

"I asked the busboy. He said you were on your break."

"How do you know where I work?" Nina demanded.

"That's also kind of hard to explain." Pulling aside her coat, Alice went to reach for the letter she had in the waistband of her jeans.

Apparently seeing the gesture as threatening, Nina moved like a flash. Darting forward, she pushed Alice back against the opposite brick wall. Pulling something from her own pocket, Nina splashed something on Alice's face and then began reciting some startlingly familiar words.

" _Omnipotens, qui fugabunt maligni spiritus invoco. Quia pius es, hunc peccatorem ab igne inferni-"_

Alice recognized the words. It was the exorcism Jan had used to get the demons out of Cara and Noah.

"Are you a hunter?" Alice asked breathlessly.

Nina stopped. "What?"

Noticing the small bottle of holy water Nina held in her hand, Alice asked again.

"Are you a demon?" Nina demanded, still evading the question.

Alice held up her hands. "No. I swear to God. Now, are you a hunter?"

Nina scoffed, and spit at the ground. "No. Are _you?"_

"Not really," Alice said. "That exorcism...and the holy water...who taught you those things if you're not a hunter?"

Becoming guarded again, Nina sneered at her. "Just because you're a demon doesn't mean you're not some other kind of monster."

"Go ahead. Silver, salt, holy water, iron. None of it will work on me."

Seeming to believe her, Nina still didn't let down her guard. "Who the hell are you, then?"

"Look, I don't know why, but does the name Janet Sutton mean anything to you?"

There was a palpable shift in Nina's demeanor. "Who are you?" She asked, more softly this time.

Finally able to pull out the letter, Alice held it out to the other woman, who changed slightly. "My name is Alice. Janet Sutton was my aunt."

" _Was?"_

"She died. And left you this letter."

"She's dead? And she left _me_ a letter?"

Alice shrugged. "I never heard of you until I read through her will. She mentioned you worked at Chimega's on the South Side. Seemed like she knew you."

"Maybe you should've lead with that."

Alice smirked a bit. "Maybe. Here."

Cautiously, Nina didn't take her eyes off of Alice as she snatched the letter. The woman stared at the letter for a minute, before flicking her back to Alice, who was also watching her.

"I hope you don't expect me to read this letter with you staring at me," Nina said.

"Right. Sorry." Alice dropped her gaze. "But you can't blame me if I'm curious. Aunt Jan never mentioned you, and then you show up in her will with a letter addressed to you. Only a handful of people got letters."

Nina's eyebrows raised. "Really? And I was one of them?"

"You must've been important to my aunt."

Becoming a bit humbled, Nina ran her fingers along the edge of the letter. "I didn't honestly even think she remembered me. It was so long ago…"

"What was?"

Nina sighed and took a seat on a nearby stoop. "Your aunt...she saved me. I was demon possessed and she rescued me. If it wasn't for her, I would've died."

Immediately feeling a wave of sadness hit her, Alice found herself taking a seat beside Nina, unaware of how uncomfortable it made the other woman. Overcome with sudden emotion, Alice bit one of her knuckles and wondered how many people her aunt had saved. It was amazing that Jan never did it for recognition. She did it because she truly cared for others. Not only did she die a hero, she'd lived as one as well.

"If you don't mind me asking, how'd she die?" Nina asked softly.

"What you'd expect. Demons."

In awe of the stranger that had saved her so long ago, Nina felt the familiar feeling of gratitude rush through her. "She's the one that taught me about the prayer and the holy water. She taught me how to protect myself," Nina admitted.

As the pieces fell into place, Alice figured that was where Nina had learned it all. "She was one tough woman."

Nina smiled slightly, staring at the note. "Thank you...for the note. And...I'm sorry I soaked you with holy water."

Alice smiled, fingers running through the places where her hair was damp. "I don't blame you. Look, I know I'm a stranger, but...if you ever need anything…"

Nina held up a hand. "Whatever you're going to say: no. Look, Alice, I appreciate what your aunt did from me, and you for delivering the note but I can't accept any other help for your family. You and your aunt have already done so much for me. And like you said, we're strangers-"

"I understand, Nina. I'll respect your wishes," Alice said. The two women rose slowly and walked to the entrance of the alley. They didn't say anything else to each other, just exchanged one more glance as Nina disappeared into Chimega's and Alice made the trek towards her car.

* * *

"Hey Bobby do you have-" Sam had burst into the house, and into the living room, stopping once he saw what was going on.

Standing in the front of the living room was Bobby. Beside him was a chalkboard with several different sigils on it. He had a piece of chalk raised in his hand. Cara and Noah, who had been sitting on the couch, with notebooks on each of their laps, had their heads turned towards where Sam was standing, mouths agape. On the notebooks were crude, hand drawn recreations of the sigils.

"What are you-"

"Sammy, I'm gonna hit the shower then-" Not able to finish his sentence, Dean, who had appeared beside his brother, stopped when he saw what was going on. "Bobby why do you have a chalkboard?" He asked, a bit lightheartedly, before he saw what was on it. The most telling sign were how quickly Cara and Noah turned around when he walked in, as if they were pretending he didn't exist.

After walking into the room, Dean spun in a slow circle, looking at everything. "What the hell is going on here?" He asked Bobby, looking at the older man with folded arms.

Like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Bobby gave a sheepish smile and gently chucked the chalk behind him. "Just some summer school."

"In _what_ subject?" Dean asked lowly, moving closer to the chalkboard.

"Geometry," Bobby said, even though he knew it was a blatant lie.

" _Really._ Because those sure look a lot like demonic protection symbols."

"Please, boy. Like you know what geometry is really even like."

"Bobby," Dean warned. It was apparent he wasn't in the mood for jokes. Hadn't been in awhile.

"This is all your fault, Cara," Noah muttered under his breath, slamming his own notebook shut. Although he didn't like feeling like he was in summer school, at least it gave him something to do. And now that Dean had figured it out, he was back to doing nothing but staring at the walls.

"Shut up," Cara growled.

"What's he talking about, Cara?" Dean demanded, spinning around to his children.

Cara clutched a book tightly in both hands. Normally, she would've felt afraid when her father spoke to her in that tone of voice, but ever since they'd come to Bobby's, he'd been essentially ignoring them. Perhaps this was her chance to get his attention. "Uncle Bobby's teaching us about monsters and demons."

"And _why_ is that?"

Cara shrugged like it was obvious. "So we can _protect_ ourselves. Look, we said we wouldn't ask you to teach us to hunt again, so Uncle Bobby will teach us to."

"I'm doing _what?"_ Bobby had agreed to teach the kids things about monsters, but he hadn't promised to teach them how to actually hunt.

"Cara-"

"Don't worry, Dad. We won't bother you with it. You can just go work on your car some more." Cara turned away from him, as if dismissing him from the room.

Up until that point, Dean hadn't had any qualms about leaving with his brother to track down this mysterious Ellen woman. Not until Cara's words barbed a hole in his already battered heart.

While normally, he probably would've been angry at the disrespectful way she talked to him, he forced himself to take a step back before he exploded at her. That's how everything was manifesting itself in him. He would be fine and then suddenly shout at someone, and then pretend like nothing ever happened.

And before he did that to his daughter, Dean forced himself to actually _think_ through a situation for once.

He'd taken artillery fire like a soldier in a trench. Non stop. Non stop. Fire after fire after fire after fire. And even after the enemy had evidently retreated, he was still left to care for the wounded and torn apart.

"Cara."

Wincing at the use of her name, the girl reluctantly turned around, seeming to regret the harsh words she had used. "Yeah?"

Moving so he was in front of the couch where the kids sat, Dean took a seat on the coffee table, so he was equidistant from Cara and Noah, who faced him. "You think I've been spending too much time working on my car?" Dean asked.

With a pouty face, Cara looked down at the notebook in her lap. "No."

"Then what?" Dean asked. He was trying hard to remain calm, but the stubborn way Cara was refusing in engage in the conversation she brought up was frustrating him.

"It's not about the car," Noah said, holding back an eye roll. Did he really need to spell it out? Perhaps being stuck inside all day had made him irritable, especially when the only people that kept him company, was Cara while she was more focused on something else, or Bobby when he was teaching them about the lore.

Still not seeming to understand, Dean asked again what they were referring to.

Before either kid could speak up, Bobby was shoving the other man out of the room. "Come with me, idjit," he directed, knocking both brothers back through the kitchen and back door.

"Bobby, what the hell?" Dean demanded, rounding back on the older man. He threw his arms out wide on either side.

"I always knew you were thick in the head boy I didn't realize your brain was missing too!" In anger, Bobby reached forward and swatted the back of Dean's head.

"Ow, what? What did I do this time?"

Bobby pointed a finger back towards the house. "Those kids!"

Not exactly knowing what Bobby was talking about, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the ground. "What about 'em?" He asked almost noncommittally.

Bobby raised his hand again, but then dropped it with a disgusted scoff of disbelief. "Maybe that little girl is right. Maybe you've had your head under the hood of the car for too long."

"Okay if all of you have a problem with me working on my car-"

"It's not about the car, Dean. You heard what Noah said," Sam interjected quietly. He had been standing silently nearby. After the interactions, he understood what was going on. "They miss you."

Dean frowned, not understanding. "Miss me? I've been with them for weeks."

Wanting to facepalm at the dumbfounded expression on Dean's face, Bobby jumped in. "Well put yourself in their shoes, you idjit. Yes, you're here, but how often have you actually been _there?_ Is there any other time you actually see them, other than when you tell them goodnight before passing out in front of the TV after drinking two six-packs."

"I don't need to hear this right now," Dean muttered petulantly.

"Yes you do, boy. Now look, I know you've been in real bad shape since your daddy died-and if you want to deal with that by blocking out your problems, working on that hunk of metal, and drinking like a fish, by all means, be my guest.

"But you not dealing with your own shit needs to be put on the backburner if that means you're neglecting your kids."

 _That_ angered Dean. " _Neglecting?_ You think I'm-"

"I don't need to tell you what they've been through, Dean," Bobby said.

"I know what they've been through. But they're tough they-"

"Maybe, but they're still just children," Sam added. "And with their mother taking care of things, they were expecting their father to look after them. But their father seems to be worried about other things."

Crossing his arms, Bobby couldn't help but draw parallels between Dean and his father. Sure, Mary had been killed and Alice was just off taking care of some obligations, but still, two children were left under the care of a father. And although both situations were vastly different and Dean had extra help, a seed of worry began to grow inside of Bobby.

Was Dean on the path of turning into his father?

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it, Dean?" Bobby finally asked.

Electrified by the insinuation, for several reasons, Dean physically stepped back from his brother and surrogate uncle. He looked between the two of them in disbelief. Sam had this pitying look on his face like he was dealing with an abused puppy, and Bobby looked like he had to put down the abused puppy.

Dean's first thought was panic and worry that he actually was acting how John had after Mary had died. A second afterwards, Dean immediately felt terrible for blanching at the thought of being like his father. His father had been a great hunter, smart, cunning...but Dean couldn't bring himself to admit John had been a great father. Maybe he'd tried his hardest, but it hadn't been enough. After thinking that, Dean inwardly whipped himself for thinking that too. John had died in the ultimate sacrifice to save Dean and was now paying the price for it in Hell.

 _How dare you,_ Dean thought in his head. How dare he stain the last memory of his father. The man wasn't perfect, but no man was.

Surprised that the next words out of his mouth were not shouts or cries of pain, perhaps the only thing holding them back was the strangled whisper Dean spoke in. "After everything he's done, you two don't see him as the man he really was, do you?"

Dean's volume began to rise and both Sam and Bobby looked down, ashamed. "Why do you two look at me like I'm some pariah, huh? Sam, you lost a father, just like me. And don't like you're so well adjusted. All that's been on your mind lately is revenge: hunting down the demon and icing that bastard.

"And you, Bobby. You act like everything is fine, but you lost someone too. You push it down just like me; you drink more than me.

"You lost Jan.

"Maybe I didn't realize it right away, because I thought you were mourning my dad. But after I thought about it, that man caused you nothing but grief. By the time he died, he was barely a friend to you. So no. Dad wasn't the one you were torn up about. It was someone else. But it was still someone.

And I don't know what kind of relationship you had with Jan, but she meant a lot to you. That I can tell."

In a sudden, uncontrolled display of emotion, but charged forward and grabbed Dean by the front of the shirt. With gritted teeth, Bobby shook Dean roughly, while the younger man just gaped in surprise.

Dean wasn't caught off guard by the sudden bout of anger-he figured he had that coming. What surprised him was the sheen of Bobby's eyes. No tears were escaping, but he could tell the older man was doing everything he could do hold them back.

Then, as suddenly as Bobby grabbed Dean, he let him go. Taking a step back, Bobby sniffled. "Don't talk about things you don't understand." The tone suggested said _case closed, never bring up this topic again._

Perhaps realizing he crossed a line, Dean's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Bobby."

Clearing his throat like nothing was wrong, Bobby punched Dean's shoulder. "You know you're a real pain in the ass sometimes, right?"

"Back at you, old man."

"Don't push your luck," Bobby said in a warning tone. He sobered. "You still need to spend more time with those kids. And just so you know, the only reason I'm teaching them anything about the lore is because they wouldn't stop yammering about it. I never said anything about actually teaching them how to hunt. "

Dean nodded in contemplation, still a bit put off to hear Cara and Noah had spent most of their time thinking about hunting. But maybe...was it possible...that letting them learn about monsters wouldn't be the worst thing in the world?

The sudden revelation surprised Dean. Ever since the day at the lake, he had been actively trying to not think about the conversation with Cara and Noah and especially hadn't been thinking about the visions Noah apparently had.

Looking back towards the house, Dean sighed. He turned back to his brother for a moment. "Sammy, why don't you tell Bobby what you told me. I'm gonna go talk to them."

"Sure," Sam agreed quietly, not watching as Dean walked away from the group.

When Dean came into view of the house, he saw the curtain in the living room fall back into place. Smirking a bit at that, he slowly made his way into the home, trying to figure out what he needed to say to his kids. Honestly, they had seemed fine. He knew they were tough and he thought they were handling everything well. Kids were resilient, but Sam was right. They were still just kids. The physical injuries were still visible on Noah, and often Dean forget there were scars on the inside too.

Entering the room, Dean found both kids casually posed. Noah lay on the couch, leg propped up on a pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, repeatedly throwing and catching a tennis ball that was in his hand. Cara sat awkwardly on the edge of the coffee table and pretended to pore over her notes, as if frantically trying to prepare for an exam at the last minute. Both sets of eyes shifted to him for a second, before pretending like neither of them noticed him come in, as if they hadn't been watching out the window thirty seconds ago.

Catching the ball while it was in midair, Dean instructed Noah to scoot over so he could sit down. "Cara, do you mind putting down the book so we can talk?"

At first, Dean didn't think she'd heard him, but she had. Slowly, and with an attitude, she closed the book and slammed it down beside herself.

"Umm...it's been brought to my attention that I guess I haven't been spending all that time with you guys," Dean said, self-consciously itching the side of his face. Based upon their unimpressed reactions, Dean could tell they thought he was full of shit.

With a sigh, he dropped his hands into his head, forgetting they were there for a moment. He didn't know why everyone wanted him to be so vulnerable and sensitive all the time; it wasn't who he was.

"Alright, look…" Dean began, trying to think of what to say. "We've all been through a lot. And we all have different ways of handling it. But I get what you guys are saying. I'll try harder. I'm sorry." His words were candid and short, as he didn't want to seem weak in front of anyone, especially his children. "I'm here for you guys. Okay, Cara? Okay, Noah?"

It took several seconds, but both kids muttered affirmatives, still looking down at the ground.

Sighing, Dean put his arm around Noah. "C'mere, Care," he said, holding his other arm out for her.

The three sat there in silence, the thoughts bombarding Dean, a few nagging sentiments unable to leave the forefront of his mind.

* * *

It was a while later. Dean had finally taken a break from his car and sat in the living room while Cara and Noah sat at the kitchen table, finishing up their lunch. The curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had flipped through the notebooks Cara and Noah were working in. So far, it seemed like basic notes on how to defend against commonplace creatures such as spirits, werewolves, and demons. The newest pages seemed to be their attempts at drawing protection sigils.

There was a shift in the weight distribution on the couch, as Sam sat beside his brother. He reached for one of the notebooks that sat between them. Flipping through it, Sam commented, "It's not bad."

Dean nodded pensively.

"I'm sure Bobby didn't mean to go behind your back. If you're upset-"

"Just because the three of us had that little powwow a while ago, I'm still not talking about my fucking feelings, Sam," Dean said, sounding and feeling like a broken record. He stood up suddenly and walked to the other side of the room. If there was one person he couldn't stand to be around right now, it was Sam. If his little brother didn't constantly try to talk about their feelings, then Dean wouldn't have had a problem with him. For the more Sam pressed Dean, the closer the younger brother got to a truth Dean tried bury deep down. "Bobby say he has a car for us?" Dean asked, quickly moving onto the next topic.

"Uh yeah he has one up and running. Dean?"

" _What?"_

"Maybe I should go alone?"

"Why?"

"Maybe leaving the kids alone isn't the best thing in the world right now."

"I'm going with you, Sam-"

There was a slam from the doorway.

Both brothers turned, ready to fend off a monster. But instead, they realized they were going to have to deal with a pissed of ten-year-old. "You're leaving?" Cara asked. A heavy book had slid from her hand and rested beside her on the floor. Her face was slowly turning red. It was hard to tell if she was on the verge of yelling or crying.

Glaring at Sam for a moment, as if the whole thing was his fault, Dean took a deep breath and slowly stood up from the couch. "Cara…"

With a shake of her head, she turned and stormed back into the kitchen, moving for the back door. Just as she was about to wrench the door open, Dean grabbed her by the arm. "Cara, wait. Listen," Dean began.

Trying to shake herself from her father's grip, Cara shook her head. Angry tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eye. "After what you said you're just gonna leave?!"

"What?" Noah asked, from the kitchen table.

"Cara, please, there's some things I have to take care of," Dean pleaded.

"Let go! Let me go!" Cara yelled.

"Dean, let her go," Sam said quietly from the doorway.

Dean released her, and the young girl went flying back into the wall from the pulling force she was using to get out of his grip.

Quietly, Cara picked herself up. She indignantly wiped her tears and looked at her father. "Just go," she finally said. "That's all you do: leave us."

The room echoed with the back door closing. At a loss, Dean stared at the spot where Cara was. Then, he found himself to his only remaining child, still like a statue at the kitchen table.

"Noah…" Dean began.

Pushing his plate aside, Noah sighed. "She doesn't understand."

"Understand what?" Dean asked.

" _I_ know that when you leave, you'll always come back."

"But Cara doesn't believe that," Dean said, with small revelation.

Noah looked up at his father, but didn't say anything.

"Okay…I should get her before she gets too far. You okay, Noah?"

Quietly Noah nodded. "Yeah. I'm great, Dad."

A few moments later, Dean had also exited the house, in search of Cara. Once his father was gone, Noah sighed, pushed his plate to the side and rested his chin on the surface of the table, staring blankly ahead.

Sam had watched in silence on the perimeter of the room, as Dean scrambled to handle parenting. It was something that Sam knew was hard for him to begin with, but coupled with Dean's own problems, and his inability to acknowledge and handle his problems, it was obvious Dean was scrambling.

But the scene in front of him now, a young boy, sitting alone, staring off vacantly and wonderingly at the same time.

It reminded Sam of himself.

"How you doing, buddy? Sam asked, scraping a chair across the floor so he could sit beside his nephew.

Noah turned his head slightly so he could see his uncle better. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Noah answered the question. "I'm fine, I guess."

Sam nodded. "You know...you can talk about how you're feeling. I know your father is pretty terrible at that, but you can always come to me, if it feels like you can't talk to him."

Glancing at his uncle, Noah considered that. Sam seemed very sincere in what he was saying, but Noah wasn't sure Sam would be able to keep it to himself.

"I'm okay, really," Noah insisted.

Sam stared at Noah for a few more seconds with his puppy dog eyes. When he finally realized Noah wasn't about to share how he was feeling-just like his father-he reluctantly pushed back the chair. "Okay. I won't make you talk if you don't want to," Sam said.

"Great...do you mind getting me my crutches?" Noah asked, changing the subject.

* * *

 **Sheboygan, Wisconsin**

* * *

A few different strings were strummed on an old, acoustic guitar. After a discordant noise came from the instrument, the owner set it to the side. "No, no, that's wrong," said a voice. The owner of the guitar, a man leaned forward and erased a few notes off the sheet paper in front of him. On an ashtray nearby, he picked up the poorly made joint, and took a hit, before replacing it.

Returning to the guitar, a bit more focused, the man poised his hand to strum a new combination of strings. About to test the new notes, the house was instead filled with the sound of someone knocking on the door.

" _Shit."_ Jumping up, the man tossed the guitar onto the couch. On his way to the door, he grabbed the joint in one hand and tossed it into the trash can located in the kitchen.

The man opened the door to a woman. She seemed to be about his age. Long, wavy caramel hair fell down both sides of her face. She wore bootcut jeans, boots, and a loose tank top. In one hand she held a letter. However, that wasn't what alerted him. Once the man looked at the woman's face, he felt any semblance of a smile slip off his face.

He recognized this woman instantly.

"Alice?" The word seemed to get caught in his throat.

"Seth," Alice said, simply.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, face flat.

"Seth, please." Alice caught the door with one hand as he tried to close it. She shoved her way between the door so it could not close all the way.

Mouth growing into a grimace, Seth stepped further back into his apartment. "What do you want?" He demanded, wishing she would just leave.

"There's something I need to tell you," Alice said, as she grabbed the door once again when Seth tried to close it.

"Fine. Then tell me."

Alice looked around. "It would really be better if I can inside."

With a scoff, he rolled his eyes. "I don't think so." He saw her hesitation. "If you're not gonna tell me, then leave."

Seeing the cold sneer in his face, Alice stepped back from the door so she stood in the hallway. If Seth wanted to slam it on her face after what she told him, then she supposed there was nothing that would get him to let her in.

Realizing there was nothing left to do but tell him, she broke the news, right in the middle of the hallway.

"Your mother's dead, Seth."

* * *

"Cara! Cara, where are you?" Dean yelled, circling around a pile of cars in the far, back corner of the salvage yard. It was quite a sprawling place, with grids of abandoned cars stacked upon one another. It was an easy place to get lost in.

And an easy place for a child to get injured in.

With an aggravated sigh, Dean stopped at the wire fence that separated the yard from the dirt road that ran parallel to the property. He tried to keep his worry down, but all Dean could imagine was Cara climbing and getting stuck somewhere she shouldn't be or being crushed under a precariously placed car.

As his mind whirred through the worst possible scenarios, Dean stopped when he saw a disruption in the uniformity of the wire. Part of the fence-between two wood posts-was caved in, as if weight was placed on top of it. On the other side of the fence, on the dirt road, Dean could make out very faint footprints. They were small.

With a mixture of anger and anxiety, Dean clumsily hopped over the poorly constructed fence and jogged down the path of the footprints. Based on how close together they were, he could tell Cara had started off running but eventually slowed to a walk.

"Damn it," he muttered, keeping a quick walking pace. He didn't know how far she had gone, but he knew when she got angry that she had a tendency to want to get as far away from everyone and everything that made her mad as she could.

After a significant amount of time, Dean finally noticed the footprints seemed to me more sure, like they were newer, fresher.

It was only a few moments later that Dean spotted the black dot of a figure moving in the same direction as him.

"CARA!" He yelled, knowing that there would be no one else navigating the maze of dirt roads on foot.

Although the figure was far away, he could tell if pause for a moment in hesitation. Perhaps she was thinking of bolting, but probably realized that her father would've dragged her kicking and screaming back to Bobby's if he had to.

"Stay there!" Dean yelled, with less harshness. He jogged towards Cara, her figure slowly growing larger and larger.

The closer he got, the more easily he could make out her appearance. She was half turned away from his, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Her shoulders were drawn up tightly, defensively.

When he finally reached her, Dean slowed to a walk and stopped about ten feet away from her. "What were you thinking?" he said, slightly out of breath.

Staring from beneath her eyelashes, Cara gave him a baleful look but remained silent.

"Answer me, Cara," Dean demanded. There was more force behind his voice. Her actions and attitude were starting to grate on his nerves. First, she yelled at him, and then ran away. And now, she was refusing to speak to him. " _Cara,"_ Dean growled one last time.

In response, Cara stiffened at the tone. It was rare that her father ever used it with her. But ever since everything had happened, it seemed like he was using it more and more. Face pressed into her shoulder, she mumbled something.

"What?" Dean asked, tone still hard as steel.

Cara mumbled something again, still completely incoherent, and only a notch above a whisper.

"Speak up when you're talking to me. I'm not going to ask you again, young lady. This has-"

"I WANNA GO HOME!" Cara suddenly screamed before her father could continue his rant any further. "I wanna go home! I don't wanna be here anymore!"

"And what? You were planning on walking all the way back?" Dean asked.

"If I have to."

"Well, sorry to tell you kiddo, but you're stuck with me for now." Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say when he was going to be leaving shortly.

"I want Mom," Cara said, wiping at her nose.

Dean lost some of his anger at that. She had always been the parent his kids preferred. There was nothing wrong with because it was all his fault that they felt that way, and because Alice was better than him in every way. Nevertheless, it still ached that he would never be the first person his kids ran to.. Of the few interactions Dean had had with his children recently, rarely seemed like he did much but show his annoyance towards them.

"Look...I know you want Mom, but she has some things she has to take care of."

"I know she's trying to find Aunt Jan's kids. I know that," Cara said, clarifying that she knew exactly what was going on.

Dean sighed and took a moment to actually watch his daughter. She seemed disheveled, indicative of how far she had gone. Coming to stand right in front of her, Dean got down on his knees and plucked her glasses from off her face. The lenses were covered in dust, so Dean wiped them on his shirt. "I don't know how you can even see out of these," Dean noted, carefully placing the glasses back on her face.

Finally glancing at her eyes-which were the same color as her mother's-he was immediately able to sense the depth of what she was feeling. He saw pain, hurt, and frustration. Perhaps the tsunami of emotions behind her eyes could tell him more than anything she could ever say.

Sitting back on his heels, Dean made a snap decision right then and there. Maybe later he would go onto regret it, but all he could think about was how many times he had let his kids down, and especially Cara, who had taken it particularly hard. After everything she'd been through-being nearly drowned, being possessed, having her heart broken over and over again-Dean couldn't do it again.

"Okay...Cara...I can't believe I'm saying this but-" Cara's eyes darted to his face "-I don't know what else to do. So…" Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and placed both hands over his mouth, not believing what he was about to say. "Cara, I will let you come with me and Uncle Sam."

Cara's eyes immediately brightened at that, but Dean held up a hand. "Listen, I will bring you with, but _if_ I do, you have to listen to everything I say, no questions and no talking back. Do you understand? Because if you don't listen, I will drop you right back off here if I even _think_ you can't handle this."

Wordlessly, Cara nodded with wide eyes. It didn't seem to matter to her where they were going. What mattered was that her father was finally seeing her as something other than some immature kid that was too stupid to understand what was going.

"Do you understand? No backtalk, no smart answers. You listen to me. Got it?" Dean asked.

"Yes, Dad. I understand."

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Dean stood up. "No more running off, okay? That was a little kid thing to do, alright?" Knowing that calling her a little kid would push a button, Dean watched as Cara went to retort, but then remembered what they had just talked about. Instead, she just nodded once.

"Good."

Dean scanned the way from which they had came. "Why'd you have to walk so far?" He asked jokingly.

Letting a small, real smile appear on her face, Cara just shrugged, as if she didn't know any better.

When she stepped next to her father, Dean ruffled her hair affectionately, as the two began the trek back to Bobby's.

* * *

The doorframe suddenly shook as Seth's vision became unfocused, his eyes beginning to seize. Alice reacted quickly, catching him as he pitched forward in shock. "Seth Seth Seth. Hey, Seth. You with me?" She looped an arm around his waist to support him and dragged him back into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind herself. Setting him on the couch, she knelt down in front of him and watched the tell tale signs of a panic attack begin to set in.

Grabbing blindly in front of him, needing something to anchor onto, Seth found Alice's hands and sunk his nails into the as he gripped them tightly. His breathing became labored, erratic, and panicked. His face turned red and he could feel his joints beginning to lock, pins and needles underneath his skin.

Alice muttered assurances to him, telling him the panic would pass. She demonstrated deep breathing in an attempt to calm him down, get his mind out the whirlwind it was in. It seemed to help a little bit, but it took nearly ten minutes for the attack to run its course.

Eventually, Seth seemed to come back to reality. He removed his hands from Alice's and slouched back against the couch. Placing a hand against his clammy forehead, Seth took heavy breaths. It felt like he was running for his life away from a monster.

Standing quietly, waiting for him to compose himself, Alice let herself look around the apartment. It was a small place, just a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. It was plain; there were no decorations anywhere. It was also surprisingly clean for a late twenty something year old that lived by himself. It also smelled a bit like marijuana, Alice decided.

As Seth came more and more out of the funk he was in, he became more aware of his surroundings. He first heard the constant, low hum the fridge always made. Next, he felt the neck of the guitar underneath one of his hands. Last, he came to see Alice curiously look around the living room, as if in a museum.

Clearing his throat to get her attention, Seth sat up straight and watched her as she turned at the sound and came to stand on the other side of the room.

"How long has it been? Haven't seen you since...ninety-five?"

"Eleven years," Alice confirmed.

"Hmm," Seth said. "Where'd you-where'd you...uh learn how to do all that?" He motioned randomly.

"Oh that panic attacks? I'm a nurse. So I guess I just picked up how to handle it over the years. And...I used to get them sometimes as a kid."

Seth nodded a bit uncomfortably, not really sure how to respond. "So...uh...how'd she...how'd my mom die? What happened?" His hands were twisted together tightly, as if prepared for another bout of panic.

Realizing it was going to be a heavy conversation, Alice took a seat in an armchair diagonal from the couch. "Umm...it was a demon."

Seth's eyebrows raised, and his heart broke a little bit. "I didn't realize you knew about monsters."

"I've known for awhile now."

He thought for a moment before a concern suddenly pinged into his head. "Wait, I thought she stopped hunting."

Alice clenched her jaw. "She did. But I guess you never really escape the life."

"Right. Uh sure." It seemed strange to him to be having this conversation with her. Janet had always told him and his siblings never to mention hunting to their cousin. "But was she-did she get possessed or…"

"She got in the line of fire-got stabbed. She actually saved my kids who were possessed."

"Oh my God." Seth covered his mouth with one hand. He tried not to linger on the image of his mother being stabbed. "Wait. You said _kids_. As in more than one?"

Alice nodded.

"Oh. I mean I knew you were pregnant the last time I saw you, but I didn't realize you had more than one."

"Yeah. Cara and Noah."

"And how old are they?"

"Cara's ten...well actually almost eleven soon. Noah's nine."

"And is it…"

She smiled slightly, knowing where the question was going. "Same guy. He's actually a hunter too. Kind of the family business."

"I can relate to that," Seth said. Both of his parents had become hunters when they were in college, so he and his two sisters were raised, knowing since birth the supernatural world was more than just an abstraction under his bed.

"So do you still hunt?" Alice asked. Seth frowned. There seemed to be more than just a inquisitive nature behind her question.

Seth shook his head. "No. Not since my dad died. You know, he was also killed on a hunt. That's when Mom kind of stepped back from the whole world too. I guess because I was still a kid I just kind of stepped back with her."

"I see." Remembering the letter on the coffee table, Alice slid it across the surface to her cousin. "This is for you."

"What's this?" Seth gingerly picked it up and turned it over, seeing his name in his mother's familiar handwriting. "What is this?" He asked, with a little more emotion.

"I found it with her will. She wrote one for you and your sisters. As her last request she asked to track the three of you down. I had her cremated and she wanted her ashes sprinkled in Lake Michigan."

Seth sniffled and looked at the unopened letter. "Just like Dad."

"Seth, I don't know what that letter says, but she wanted you and your sisters to be there when the ashes were sprinkled."

Setting the letter beside the guitar, Seth looked at his cousin. "That's not gonna be possible."

Alice sighed. She knew in the will Jan basically said her kids might hate her, but she was hoping that they would at least come to say goodbye to their mother. "Look, I know you guys didn't exactly have a great relationship, but I think it would mean a lot to her-"

"It's not that. I'll go to say bye to her. But it's not gonna happen if you think all three of us are gonna be there."

"Why not?" Alice asked.

Seth ran a hand through the stubble on his chin. "Piper and Olivia don't exactly speak to each other anymore."

"Oh. Do you mind me asking what happened?"

Seth raised his hand. "I'm not getting in the middle of that. And all I'm gonna say is that I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect of seeing Olivia, either. But I understand it was her mom too, so if you're gonna ask her, I won't stop you."

"Well then, do you know where I can find her?"

Seth frowned. "How did you find _me_ , exactly?"

Alice felt a bit sheepish in her explanation. "I found your address in some of your mom's things. You were never really that far, I guess."

Seth's face turned a bit red. "It doesn't surprise me that she knew where I was, I guess. You have no idea how difficult it was to try and sneak out of that house when I was a teenager."

Alice chuckled at that. "I can only imagine. So, do you know where I can find Olivia?"

Seth's face seemed to darken at the mention of his sister. "No. Like I said, I haven't talked to her. Have no idea where she is."

"Oh. What about-"

"Piper? Now _her,_ I know where she is."

* * *

"Dean you can't be serious," Sam said as his older brother breezed right past him.

"Oh _now_ you're gonna start questioning my parenting decisions?"

"This is crazy. You're just gonna bring a kid along into a dangerous situation-"

"We're just tracking down some woman Dad knew. Look, it's not like we're going on a hunt or anything-"

"She's only ten-"

"I told her what's going on. And come on, Cara's smart. Nothing's gonna happen to her."

Sam sighed. His brother was the most stubborn person he knew, and at the rate Dean was packing, and how quickly he had told Cara to get ready-who was evidently excited-there was no way he was changing his mind now. And even if he did, the brothers would have to face the wrath of the Cara. It was bad enough they were already facing Noah's pouting. "Are you at least gonna call Alice?"

"For what, her permission?"

"No...just to let her know what's going on."

"She's busy."

"Yeah but-"

"Will you quit nagging? You're not my wife and neither is she. They're my kids and I can take them wherever I want without needing anyone's permission. Get off my case." He stormed out of the room, duffle in one hand.

Sam heard Dean yell for Cara, to see if she was almost done packing.

"We're rolling out in five minutes! With or without you!" Dean yelled up the stairs to Sam.

"Awesome," Sam muttered and he quickly shoved the rest of his things into his bag, knowing at the rate they were going, one of them was probably gonna kill the other before the little adventure was done.

Downstairs, Cara stood diligently by the front door, her small, purple and pink suitcase sitting beside her. Dean nodded at her as she walked by, before hesitantly going into the living room. Noah, back on the couch, had his arms crossed and was unabashedly glaring at his father.

Approaching his son, Dean hovered near the coffee table, where the crutches were haphazardly thrown around. Reaching down to straighten them, Dean noted how Noah was refusing to look away from his father.

"I know what you're gonna say, Noah. You're gonna say it's unfair that Cara gets to go and you don't."

"And you're gonna say life's not fair," Noah retorted. Dean's eyebrows raised. Noah wasn't usually one to talk back. He was always the agreeable one that listened, but evidently the injustice of the situation really resonated with him. And as both of the kids got older, the smarter their mouths got.

"Look, she's older than you, Noah."

 _Oh please, by not even two years,_ Noah thought in his head. He knew better than to roll his eyes at his father, so he did it internally instead.

"And besides, you're still hurt. You can't even walk. Maybe when you're better, I'll take you with me. Just the two of us."

 _Maybe._ And when he was _better._ To Noah, it felt like he was never going to get better.

"And one more thing...could you not tell your mother about this?" Dean asked a bit sheepishly.

 _UNBELIEVABLE!_ Inside, Noah was boiling, but he managed to keep himself composed on the outside. "Sure, Dad." After everything, Dean had the audacity to request something so compelling from his mother. Honestly, the thought of telling Alice hadn't even crossed Noah's mind. Because if she found out-from anyone-Noah knew that would blow his chances of ever being able to go on some kind of hunt.

Looking a bit relieved, Dean reached forward to give Noah a hug. "Okay, bud. I'll see you soon."

Not responding, Noah gave a passive hug and leaned back against the couch, not watching as his family drove away, leaving him behind.

As Dean passed Bobby to the door, he turned to the older man, glancing back at his son. "You'll watch him, right?" There was an edge of worry, and maybe a bit of regret in Dean's voice.

Bobby nodded solemnly. "You know I will."

Realizing the request wasn't necessary Dean offered a quick thank you, and was gone, leaving the sound of the door slamming reverberating around the near empty house.

* * *

He'd lost track of how many episodes of _SpongeBob_ he'd watched. The fuzzy television with distorted sound created an eerie, pulsating light that vaguely bathed the dark living room in color. Feeling his eyes begin to hurt, Noah tentatively shut the television off, plunging the space into silence, save for the occasional page turn on the other side of the room.

It took Bobby several minutes to realize the only light source was now the dim lamp sat atop his desk. Looking up from the heavy book he was reading, he noticed the young boy's mop of black hair lean back, as if gazing up at the ceiling. The older man noted Noah had been doing that a lot. He knew the kid was used to running around in the sunlight, loving life and living every minute fully. For Noah, it seemed it had always been okay that life went by at such a slow pace. But now that he was confined to the indoors, each ticking minute seemed to be more painful than the last.

"I think I've spent most of my day here," Noah commented. He didn't know if Bobby was even paying attention, but he suddenly felt like rambling.

"Give it some time, boy. You'll be running around again before you know it."

"I _have_ been giving it time. I've been trying to give everything time. I've tried to be patient but it feels like I'm never gonna get better. That none of us are." From where he sat, Bobby could see the frustration in Noah's voice, and the expressive way the young boy's shoulders moved.

Bobby relocated to the edge of the coffee table. His hands clasped together as he tried to figure out what to say to Noah. It was evident there were no comforting words that would mean much to the boy, who seemed to be holding a lot of things in.

The man looked at his hands as he spoke. "I know this is the worst part of trauma: when you are so sure nothing can ever be okay again. But Noah, even if you don't think you're ever gonna get there, you will. That may not be the answer you wanted to hear, but it's the truth. You get better. You heal. Just takes time."

They sat in contemplative silence for a while before Noah spoke. "Thanks, Uncle Bobby."

"For what?" Bobby asked with a furrowed brow.

Noah shrugged. "I don't know I guess just...listening. Mom and Uncle Sam are always trying to force me to talk, but I feel like they're not really hearing what I'm saying when I do. And Dad just pretends like nothing is wrong. I feel like Cara is the only one that understands what I'm going through, but there are just some things she doesn't get, either."

"Like what?"

Noah licked his lips, and looked off into space, as if arranging the words of what he wanted to say. "She doesn't have these feelings that I get. The ones where I know something bad is gonna happen but I don't know _what."_

Bobby nodded silently. First Sammy had gotten visions, and now Noah was following in his footsteps. Bobby could tell it freaked out Dean and Alice more than anything else. Sam felt guilty, as if it was somehow his fault. Cara probably knew the most, because that was who Noah confided in most of the time, but she didn't know how bad they could get.

"And she had a monster in her head too. I _know_ that. But what I _did_ while that thing was in my mind makes me sick to my stomach."

Feeling his own stomach begin to turn, Bobby shifted slightly, clenching his hands tighter together.

"I killed my Aunt Jan." Noah's head bent down so his eyes were out of sight.

"Noah…" Bobby began, but all he could picture in his mind was the knife stealing the life from Jan.

"I did. I did. You can all say it was Murmur, but he used me to do it, and now I'm stuck with those memories forever. _That's_ why I hate sitting around all day because all I can think about is how I was gonna kill Mom but then Aunt Jan pushed her out of the way. And the knife…" Noah's voice broke on the last word, along with Bobby's heart.

Pulling his cap down a little further, to try and obscure his face, Bobby felt like he was losing control of his words. "It's not your fault, Noah. What that bastard did to you and your sister...I wanted to rip 'em apart myself when I heard. But it's not your fault. Not at all. If you need me to say that a thousand more times, I will, because you need to understand that it wasn't _you_ that did that, even if it was you. You follow?"

"Yes," Noah responded softly. Still, he seemed troubled.

"What else is bothering you?" Bobby asked.

"It's so stupid to be upset about killing someone-"

"That wasn't you," Bobby insisted. He meant it. If he had to tell Noah that a hundred times a day, he would.

"Yes sir. But after everything I've been through, I want to be able to...defend myself. I don't want anything like that to happen to anyone I care about or anyone at all. _That's_ why I wanna learn how to hunt. Not cause I wanna be like the rest of my family, but because I know what it felt like not being able to do anything. I don't like that feeling. And I don't think anyone else would, either." The more Noah talked, the smaller his voice got, while the words became more passionate.

The soliloquy really put the kid in a new light to Bobby. Noah had always just been a little brother who was goofy and silly and didn't take anything too seriously. And then after what happened, Bobby thought maybe Noah would've been broken by what happened to him. Initially Bobby thought it was a mixture of childhood innocence and naivety that Noah wanted to learn to hunt. But after listening to Noah, it was obvious the boy's reasons were pure, not because he was young, but simply because he was good.

Unlike his father, uncle, and grandfather, Noah wasn't motivated by revenge, anger, or familial obligation. There didn't seem to be any room for that inside his heart.

"And we bring hunting up to my dad, but he just shuts it down and acts like we never ever talked about it. Then-all of a sudden-he takes Cara with him. You know, it was _my_ idea to hunt but she gets to go first because she's _older._ Maybe it's a stupid thing to be mad about but I always feel like she's just so _Cara._ She always has to be right because she's always reading and it... _ugh!_ "

Despite everything, Bobby snorted at that. "It's because she's your sister. Family has a funny way of rubbing you the wrong way and making you angry to no end. And as for your father; he's an idjit, Noah-what else can I say? He drives me crazy sometimes, but I love him regardless, the same way you feel about Cara, I suspect."

"I guess," Noah mumbled halfheartedly, not wanting to _actually_ admit that he loved his sister. Still, the boy looked a bit glum.

"Do you want me to tell you a secret?" Bobby suddenly asked.

Noah glanced up at him. "What?"

"Now, see, _I_ may not be psychic but I can tell that one day you're gonna make a damn fine hunter, Noah." Although Bobby wasn't crazy with the idea of the kids learning to hunt-none of the adults did-it seemed like that's the way their course was headed.

"Really? You think so?" Noah asked brightly, with the quality of a little kid reaffirming they were on Santa's nice list.

"I'm pretty sure of it." With a yawn, Bobby stood and stretched his arms above his head. "It's late."

Catching the contagion of yawning, Noah tried to cover his mouth. Even though he hadn't done much today, he felt emotionally drained.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed, and from the looks of it, you should too."

Not able to hide the tiredness anymore, Noah nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Alright, let's get you up to bed then." Bobby turned and bent down in front of the couch so Noah could climb onto his back. Once the boy was situated, Bobby grabbed the crutches in one hand and ascended the stars, to the bedroom where the kids slept when they came over.

Dropping Noah on the bed, Bobby acted like his back was hurting him, which caused Noah to laugh.

"Night, kid," Bobby said, as he deposited the crutches next to the bed.

Noah slowly got under the covers as the door softly shut behind Bobby.

Adjusting himself, Noah found himself staring at the ceiling after a while. His family was scattered in the four corners of the winds. Everyone had stuff they were dealing with.

Eventually deciding he was done thinking, Noah shut his eyes. Because he had spent most of his day doing nothing, he'd done a lot of thinking. And he needed a break from it for a bit.

It wasn't soon after that Noah had finally fallen asleep, breathing evenly and sleeping deeply.

That night, there were no visions or nightmares of demons, just healing.

* * *

 **We're officially Season 2! I'm so excited! I hope everyone is looking forward to what is coming. Let me know what you're looking forward to in the reviews and what you liked.**


	33. Keep It in the Family

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Three: Keep It in the Family**

* * *

A wheezing wood-paneled minivan shuddered to a stop. When the engine was finally shut off, the dying vehicle shook as if a hypodermic victim. Nearly tripping out of the car, Dean vigorously slammed the driver's door shut. "This is humiliating. I feel like a freaking soccer mom!" He yelled out into the open air.

The backdoor of the van slid open and Cara hopped out. "Sorry to break it to you Dad, but it's a little late for that."

"It was the only car Bobby had running," Sam responded flippantly, glancing around.

A few paces away from the car was a dilapidated looking clapboard building with a faded sign reading "Harvelle's Roadhouse".

Turning, Sam caught Cara sliding the door of the van shut.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked, hands rising to his hips.

Confused, Cara glanced around. "What?"

Sam pointed to the suspicious building, like it wasn't obvious. "You're not coming in there with us. You're waiting in the car."

Dean scoffed. "Ignore him. Let's go Cara." He held out an extended hand, and Cara reached forward, grabbing it. Looking back over her shoulder, she gave her uncle a smug, mischievous smile.

With an eye roll, Sam managed to keep his mouth shut. Dean had always been an overprotective father, but now all of a sudden, here he was, dragging Cara along somewhere that was no place for a child. Dean had been acting ridiculous for a long time, but now he was putting Sam's niece in the crossfire.

Still, Sam grudgingly followed his brother's lead. Dean had Cara's hand in one, and with the other, pushed open the door to the Roadhouse. Like a piece of paper fluttering in the wind, it knocked back against the wall, weighing nothing.

Dean surveyed the joint. It was dimly lit from a few grimy windows. There was a bar in the far corner of the room, and several pool tables closer to the door. On on of the nearby tables was a snoring man, passed out.

"Hey buddy?" Sam asked, towards the man. He wrinkled his nose. "I'll take it that's not Ellen." He moved further into the building, and then slipped into a door that was situated behind the bar.

Glancing around the room, Dean motioned Cara to stand against the wall, which she did without question. She didn't even seem that surprised when he pulled out a gun he had at the small of his back, and began to peruse the rest of the building.

It was hardly the worst she'd seen after all.

As Dean slowly moved forward, Cara stared down at her gym shoes for a moment, realizing one of them was untied. Quickly bending down, she began to tie it, when she heard her father speak.

"Oh God, please let that be a rifle."

There was the sound of a gun cocking, and then a female voice. "No, I'm just real glad to see you. Don't move."

Head snapping up, Cara abandoned her untied shoe, and crawled forward, so she was crouched behind one of the pool tables. She wanted to gasp at what she saw. A blonde lady in a black tank top was holding a gun to her dad's back.

"Not moving. Copy that. You know something, Miss…." Dean began nonchalantly. It amazed Cara that he wasn't even fazed with a gun to his back. "When you put a rifle to someone, you really shouldn't put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do this." Fluidly, Dean turned around and snatched the gun from the blonde woman. He cocked it shut. Cara felt herself sighing, but immediately recoiled when she watched the woman punch Dean square in the face, snatching the weapon back from him.

Blinded by the punch, Dean covered his face, calling for his brother's help. Cara covered her mouth, holding back a gasp, watching her uncle be marched out from behind the bar, his hands laced behind his head. An older lady with brown hair held a gun to the back of his head. "Sorry Dean. I'm a little tied up right now," Sam said in a pinched voiced.

As the older woman turned in her direction, Cara ducked down underneath the pool table so she wouldn't catch sight of her. Curled up against one of the legs of the table, Cara wondered if she should've done something. But then again, she didn't really know what she could've done. She didn't have a weapon, and even if she did, she didn't know how to use it.

The woman, with a gun to Sam's head, frowned for a minute, looking between the two boys. "Sam? Dean? As in Winchester?"

"Yeah," the brothers said at the same time, not knowing if it was going to get them blown away or not.

"Son of a bitch," the woman commented in an amazed voice.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The blonde asked warily.

"Yeah. I think they're John Winchester's boys. Hey, I'm Ellen," she said with a laugh. The gun held at Sam's held lowered to her side. "This is my daughter Jo."

"Hey," Jo said carefully, slowly lowering in own weapon.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean asked, slightly wary of Jo.

With a slight laugh, Ellen tossed him a towel. Dean pressed it to his nose. It felt like it was broken.

While his brother was busy mopping up the blood from his face, Sam scanned the establishment, and panicked momentarily when he didn't see Cara leaned up against the wall. A bit urgently, he turned. "Dean, where's-"

"Cara?" Dean asked, finishing Sam's thought.

There was no response.

"Cara? It's okay to come out now," Dean tried again.

A few hesitant seconds later, Cara's head popped out as she crawled from underneath the pool table. She stepped away from her hiding spot and moved a few unsure paces to her father.

Seeing her hesitation, Dean walked up to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "It's okay," he said reassuringly, as he ushered her back to the group.

 _Sure_ it was, Cara thought, seeing the towel pressed to his face.

Suddenly seeing there was a child there, Ellen's mouth dropped open a little bit. Chucking her chin at Jo, the blonde understood the motion. Placing the rifle on the pool table behind her, Jo wiped her gun powder-covered hands on her apron and tried to smile at the child.

Feeling her motherly instincts kick in, Ellen felt herself gravitated to the small girl. Moving forward, and crouching down so she was at eye level, Ellen didn't even have to try to smile. "Hello, what's your name?"

"It's Cara." Cara reached up and grabbed the edge of her father's shirt, clutching it in her hand. He smiled lightly at that. She had never been good with strangers, even now.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Ellen." The brunette woman held out her hand to the child.

Cara studied the woman for a moment. Even though she had held a gun to her uncle's head, Cara couldn't help but feel at ease around Ellen. Cautiously, the girl held out her hand, so she was shaking Ellen's. "Nice to meet you," Cara replied, politely.

"This is my daughter," Dean supplied simply, as Ellen stood back up.

"It's nice to meet her," Ellen responded.

"Thanks. You called our father. Said you could help. Help with what?"

Ellen glanced at Cara hesitantly.

Dean caught the look. "It's okay. She knows," he said. Cara felt his arm unconsciously tighten around her. "So, what were you going to help him with?" He asked again. Sam glared at his brother, but Dean didn't catch the look.

Sighing, Ellen rubbed her face. "Well, the demon of course. I heard he was closing in on it."

Almost insulted, Dean couldn't keep the sarcastic smirk off his face. "What, was there some article in the _Demons Hunters Quarterly_ I missed? I mean, who are you...how do you know all of this?" He tried to keep the bite out of his tone. John was hesitant to tell his own sons but some random hunter lady was apparently all up to date.

Ellen held up her hands. "Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. You know, John was like family once."

Dean didn't know why it bothered him that Ellen was using his father's name like they were on a first name basis. Inherently, it made Dean angry at all the secrets John had kept from him. But, once Dean stepped back, he realized he had no right to get upset about being angry, as he had kept some pretty monumental secrets, too.

"How come he never mentioned you before?" Dean asked, with a little less gusto.

Ellen shrugged. "Dunno. You'd have to ask him yourself."

Dean bristled slightly. Cara felt slightly jarred as he shifted. "So...why exactly do we need your help?" He asked.

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help that's fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out." She paused for a moment, realizing something. "But John wouldn't send you if…" Ellen's expression shifted. "He didn't send you. He's alright, isn't he?"

There was a swell in the silence, that burst when Sam spoke. "No, no he isn't. It was the demon, we think. Umm...we think it got him before he could get it."

Cara sucked in her lips. Things were making sense. She'd heard about _THE DEMON,_ vaguely _._ She knew it was a particular one that went after their family, and that her grandfather had went after it, and then died under strange circumstances. _But,_ she hadn't known that had been the thing that killed her grandfather.

No one seemed to notice Cara's sudden revelation and the small intake of breath. The demon had been going after their family for decades.

Cara zoned out as the adults continued to talk, while she tried to make sense of the pieces that she had, and tried to figure out the ones she didn't. It was obvious everyone held a few different puzzle pieces, and Cara wondered if she held any without realizing it.

Suddenly nudged by her father, Cara pulled out of her reverie and climbed up next to him, on a bar stool. Ellen placed three glasses of water in front of the family.

"So, look, if you could help, we could use all the help we could get," Sam said, taking a sip of the drink.

"Well, we can't. But Ash will," Ellen said, with a bit of a smirk.

"Who's Ash?"

In response, Ellen yelled at the figure, passed out on the pool table.

Coming to life, the man shot up, nearly falling off the edge. "What? It closing time?"

" _That's_ Ash?" Sam asked a bit incredulously. Cara couldn't help but be fascinated by the man's oddities.

"Mhm. He's a genius," Jo added.

Dean scoffed. "You've gotta be kidding me. This guy's no genius, he's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie.

"I like you," Ash declared, flipping off the pool table, joining the others around the bar.

"Uh...thanks."

"Just give him a chance," Jo suggested.

Contemplating that for a moment, Dean silently agreed and opened a folder he had brought in. "Alright. This stuff is about a year's worth of our dad's work. Let's see what you make of it," he said, almost as a challenge.

Barely a few seconds into shuffling through the folder, Ash was already leaning back, shaking his head. "This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody that can track a demon like this."

"Our dad could," Sam said.

Ash was shaking his head again. "These are nonparametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations. I mean, _damn!_ They're signs. Omens? If you can track them, you can track this demon. Like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Sam asked, impatiently.

Ash scratched his head. "Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time. Uh...give me fifty-one hours." Both brothers raised their eyebrows at the oddly specific time, impressed. Ash nodded, and grabbed the file, turning to leave.

"Hey man?" Dean called, after Ash's retreating form. "I um...I dig the haircut, man."

Please to hear this, Ash threw his mullet back over his shoulder. "Business in the front, party in the back," he responded, disappearing down a hallway after that.

For a fleeting moment, Dean wished his hair was that cool. But between growing up with a marine/hunter for a father, and a scarred church-girl for a co-parent, Dean knew there was no way in hell he would've been able to swing the mullet. Too bad though, he could've rocked it. Glancing over at his daughter, who was slowly sipping her water, he thought about picking her and her brother up from the bus stop, a full on mullet, embarrassing the absolute hell out of his kids. Oh, he could already imagine how glorious it would be.

While Dean was off thinking about a hairstyle he always wanted, Sam noticed a folder pinned to a wall behind the bar.

Removing the file from the wall, Ellen slid it towards Sam. "I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but take a look it you want."

Glancing back at Cara, Sam moved over to one of the pool tables, calling over his brother to pore over the file with him.

Left alone at the bar with just Jo, Cara watched as she polished the counter. "Is your mom a hunter?" The girl asked.

Jo glanced back at Sam and Dean, but ultimately shrugged. "I don't really know. She got into it from my dad." The kid seemed to know what was going on, Jo thought.

"Does he work here too?" Cara asked.

Jo's gaze flickered down to the table. "He passed away when I was a little girl."

Immediately hitting herself, Cara averted her gaze too. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather."

Cara nodded numbly. "It's okay. I only met him once."

"Oh." That was all Jo could say.

"Are _you_ a hunter?" Cara asked.

Looking back at her mother, Jo thought about all the hunts she had researched and wanted to go on but never had been able to because of her mother. "Kinda."

"Did you hunt when you were my age?" Cara asked.

Jo's frown deepened. "How _old_ are you?"

"Almost eleven," Cara replied.

The blonde almost balked at that. " _No."_ Jo, herself had only been on a few hunts-and only in the past couple years, under the close supervision of her mother.

"Oh," Cara uttered. Maybe that would've been a sign to her, but she was so hellbent on knowing the world her father had kept secret for all of her life. Thinking about that made her wonder what her mother was doing right now. Cara always insisted she didn't need anyone. But right now, she wouldn't mind talking to her mother, who was off trying to find Aunt Jan's long-lost children.

A few silent moments later, Cara away from Jo, towards her dad and uncle, who were both wrapping up whatever they were looking at.

And before Cara could even say goodbye to Ellen and Jo, she was whisked out the door, by Sam and Dean, a manilla folder clenched in their fists and a new mission in sight.

* * *

 **Centralia, Kansas**

* * *

"Really? This is it?"

"I'm afraid so."

Alice and Seth stood next to each other, arms crossed, staring at the shabbiest motel _either_ of them had ever seen.

The _Royal Inn Motel_ was definitely anything but royal.

It was a pay-by-the-hour joint and Seth had already figured out which one of the aliases they were under.

"They're in room 3E," Seth mentioned.

Shaking her head, Alice cleared her mind. "Alrighty. It's your sister. Lead the way."

Seth took a deep, steadying breath. He wished he didn't have to do this. Right now, he wished he was taking a hit off a blunt, strumming a few notes on a guitar, and staring at a pretty woman while he did.

But instead, it looked like he was having a family reunion.

" _Fuck,"_ Seth muttered in his breath, so low not even his cousin could hear. Giving himself a shake, he pretended everything was fine. "Just follow my lead," he muttered, moving towards the door.

As he knocked on the door, there was a voice. " _Come in,"_ it said, silkily.

Both of their insides turning, Seth wanted to stab himself in the eye when he pulled open the door. The first thing he saw was a female, on the far queen bed from the door. She was suggestively sliding a lacy, pantyhose stocking up her leg. "I didn't think you were ever going to show up," she said in a controlled voice, staring down at the patent leather heel she wore, not seeing the company she had.

"What the hell?!" That was all Seth could yell. Without explanation, he ripped the comforter off the nearest bed and threw it at the person, as she was busy rolling up her stockings.

Hand covering his eyes, Seth stalked past and slammed the bathroom door behind himself.

In the silence, Alice slowly shut the door behind herself, barely recognizing the female in front of her.

" _What_ are you doing?" Alice asked, even though she had no right to ask that. But she was too appalled to think about what was within her rights of ways to react in this situation.

Huffing, the person on the bed dropped the leg of the stocking she was pulling off. She kicked the heels off her shoes and wrapped the comforter around herself. "Nothing," she said petulantly.

"Really?"

The female didn't respond, but stared at the comforter.

Alice stared at the person sitting on the bed. Alice couldn't even consider her a woman, barely even a young woman, nothing but a child. But here she was, a teenage girl, with smoky eyes, wearing lacy lingerie, hair messed up. Even worse, was the implication of what that all meant.

"Merrill, where's your mother?"

Eyes flicking up to Alice, Merrill glared. "Who are you? Are you some friend of Uncle Seth's or something? And what is _he_ doing here?"

"I'm Alice Mercer."

Merrill's eyebrows raised a bit, trying to recall that name. "Oh. You're Mom's cousin, aren't you?"

Alice nodded. "Yeah I am. You probably don't remember me; the last time I saw you you were about three or four."

"Nope. Don't remember." Standing up from the bed, Merrill moved towards a nearby drawer and pulled out an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. She threw them on and went and pounded on the bathroom door. "Are you just gonna stay in there forever?" She called.

"Are you decent?" Seth yelled back.

Merrill rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. " _Yes._ You can come out now."

Slowly, the door opened, as if Seth didn't believe her. He slowly reemerged into the room, only looking at his niece from the corner of his eyes.

Taking a seat in the spot where Alice and Seth had found her, she reached over and tossed a glimmering machete onto the floor. It landed with a _thunk._

Seth's eyes grew wide at the weapon. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Merrill?"

"Working a case," she said, plainly.

" _Dressed_ like that? I don't know what kind of crap you're trying to pull here-"

Up on her feet, Merrill strode over to her uncle. "Like _what,_ Seth? Just because you see me a few times a year doesn't mean you can come down here like my father, telling me what to do!"

Something in the words caused Seth to stand down. Alice didn't know which part, but he took a steadying breath, and tried to remain calm. "Where's your mom?"

"Out."

" _Where?"_

"Why do you care? How'd you even find us anyways?"

"Your mom talked to me last week on the phone. Mentioned you were doing a hunt in Kansas. Wasn't too hard to track down where after that."

Merrill smirked at that. "See? You've still got it."

"I'm not a hunter anymore," Seth shot back.

Merrill shrugged. "Sure. Whatever you say. But that still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"I really need to talk to your mom about something."

" _Both_ of you?" Merrill asked.

"Yes."

"About what?"

"I should really talk to her first."

Merrill scoffed and leaned back. "Then call her, since apparently you two talk all the time."

"It's something I need to tell her in person."

"Well, you're gonna be waiting for awhile. Unless...maybe if you tell me, I'd be willing to let you know where she is."

"It's your call," Alice said lowly. She was just the messenger, but it was Seth's mother.

Rubbing his face, Seth pulled back the chair that was shoved into the desk, and dropped down into it. This wasn't how he thought his week was going to go. Not even a day ago he found out his mother was dead, killed by the shit that had killed his father. It was the mess he tried to avoid, but one his sister and niece had decided to plunge headfirst into.

"Okay. Merrill, I don't really know how to say this but...Grandma Jan is dead."

There was silence in the room, so quiet that they could hear the distant highway traffic.

"Look, I know it's a lot to process-" Alice began.

"No. Not really," Merrill said, seemingly unaffected. "That's what you needed to tell Mom?"

"Well considering she was killed by demons, I'd say yeah," Seth said, growing angry.

" _Please._ You two haven't even talked to her in...how long has it been?" Merrill tapped her chin in mock contemplation.

"Excuse me, but I would think you'd be a little more upset by that," Alice said, talking in the tone she reserved for Cara and Noah when they were in trouble. "She was your grandmother after all."

The teenager raised a challenging eyebrow. "One that I barely remember. And who the hell are you to come and tell me how I should feel? As far as I'm concerned, you're not even family."

"Merrill, that's enough," Seth growled.

"Fine. Go cry about it with my mom then. She's at the Whitetooth by the way," Merrill said. Stubbornly, she marched into the room and slammed the door loudly behind herself.

When the cousins were left alone, Alice watched as Seth exhaled slowly. He had been worried about feeling sad, but he should've known he'd be left wanting to punch something.

"Seth? You alright?" Alice asked.

"Yeah just... _fucking_ teenagers."

Alice tried to sympathize with Merrill. She knew how hard it was being a teenager, but she also knew how terrible teens could be. "Well I'm glad I've got _that_ to look forward to," Alice intoned. She couldn't even imagine Cara and Noah as teenagers and frankly didn't want to. Part of her wished they stayed young forever.

Seth sighed. "Well, let's just hope Piper's more excited to see us."

* * *

The town was overwhelmingly small, and not even two blocks away, Alice and Seth found the Whitetooth, a dive bar that matched the rest of the shabby, little town.

They pushed through the doors into the surprisingly busy establishment. People were packed in like sardines, bumping elbows while reaching for drinks, and accidentally poking someone with a pool stick when going to take a shot.

"Well this shouldn't be too hard," Seth muttered ironically, really not wanting to sift through what seemed like half of the town's population.

"You want a beer?" Alice asked.

Seth nodded and waved his hand, indicating he was going to try and find the needle in a drunk haystack.

After several unsuccessful minutes of moving his way through the bar, Seth finally saw there was a patio in the back. The outdoor section seemed to be a bit nicer. There was an attempt at having lights strung above, creating a makeshift starry canopy. There were few tables out here and everyone stood in close proximity to one another.

He thought he was going to waste more time finding her, but between a break in the crowd, he caught sight at a familiar face.

Immediately locking onto it, Seth politely began to shove his way through the crowd, to the very back, where a woman stood by herself, a mixed drink in one hand and a cigarette in another.

"Piper!" Seth called, grabbing onto the woman's elbow to get her attention.

Staring at the hand around her arm, she followed the stranger's arm up to the face, frowning when she finally figured out who it was. She glanced into her drink. "How drunk am I?"

"Piper, it's me!" Seth called.

Blinking rapidly, Piper's mind seemed to clear as she realized who it was. "Seth? Oh my God, what are you doing here?" She threw her arms around him, careful to hold her drink away and the hot end of the cigarette as well.

"It's good to see you, Pipe," Seth responded.

"I haven't seen you in...I can't even remember the last time! Come on, let's go somewhere quiet so we can talk!"

Seth reluctantly nodded and not-so-eagerly followed his sister out of the bar. As much as he hadn't wanted to stay in there, at least he was cushioned from having to tell her that their mother was dead. That must've been how Alice felt when she was knocking on his door.

Alice, who was finally walking away from the bar with two beers, noticed as Seth threw her a look indicating they were going to talk outside.

Feeling the anxiety in her chest begin to build, Alice took a long swig from her drink. As she moved towards the door, she shoved the beer for Seth into the hands of the person with no drink.

Ahead, Piper and Seth stopped at the end of the block the Whitetooth resided on. The older woman leaned against a light pole and took another hit off her cigarette. "If you wanted in on the hunt, you could've just told me," Piper suggested. She knew it was well within Seth's capabilities to track her down-but she knew he had no desire to hunt, she just liked to yank his chain.

"You look good, Pipe," Seth said. Her hair was freshly dyed a dirty blonde. Her hair was normally a chocolate brown, but she'd been dying it since she was a teenager.

She scoffed. "Yeah right. I _feel_ like a downright mess though."

It hurt to swallow, hearing Piper say that. "Really? You can't be _that_ bad, right?" He asked.

She scoffed. "Oh try me. Merrill has just been...it's been kinda hard, you know?" Piper scoffed. "It's like as soon things are settling down and I finally hit a sweet spot with her, she pulls the rug out from underneath my feet.

"And I can't say I entirely blame her. What Cliff did to us...Merrill's a completely different person. And hell, I can understand why.

"But I'm hurting too, Seth. She lost a father, but I lost a husband, what I thought was the love of my life. And now, for her sake, I have to pretend like everything is fine even when I feel like falling apart."

He hadn't realized how intoxicated Piper was until now. She would never talk about, Cliff, her ex and Merrill's father unless someone pried it out of her.

With a heavy sigh, Piper stooped down and sat on the curb. She put the cigarette out into the grass and set the drink beside her foot.

The world spun around him as Seth took a seat beside his sister. He felt like he was in a dream, and would just pitch sideways, back into reality, awake, in a world where his parents were still alive, family was in tact, but isolated from one another

He didn't notice Piper studying his profile. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Huh? Nothing," Seth responded quickly.

Piper scoffed. "Look, I may have had a few too many drinks, but I can still tell when something is bothering you. So what is it?"

"I really didn't want to have to tell you like this."

"Well spit it out."

"Piper, I'm here to tell you something."

"Great. Then tell me."

"It's pretty bad news."

"What?" Piper leaned forward to catch a glimpse at his face. "God Seth, what?"

"It's Mom," he said quietly, looking down at his shoes. His voice cracked.

There was a laugh. "Mom? What about her? Seth…?" The hesitant smile on her face slowly turned upside down, into a concerned frown. As if realizing what he was talking about, Piper found herself suddenly up on her feet.

"She's dead. Isn't she?" There wasn't any other reason her little brother would show up unannounced like this.

Standing, Seth grabbed onto Piper's arms. He didn't even have to say anything. "Oh God," Piper muttered quietly, allowing Seth to wrap his arms around her. It felt strange to be comforted by her younger brother. Growing up, it had always been the other way around. And considering everything, Seth was surprised at how well he was holding himself together.

"How? When?" Piper asked into his shoulder.

"It's uh...been a few weeks, I guess. But it was a demon."

Piper pulled away. "What? What was Mom doing with a demon? I-I-I thought she was done with all of that?"

That was as much as Seth could explain. He looked past Piper, towards Alice, who stood a few feet away, giving the grieving siblings the space they needed.

Tracking Seth's faraway gaze, Piper followed it until it landed on a woman a little ways away, obviously watching and listening to what they were saying. Looking back, Piper frowned at Seth.

"It's Alice. Our cousin?" Seth offered, a bit lamely.

" _Alice?"_ Piper demanded, with a great amount of vigor in her voice. Turning back towards the other woman, she began to stride forward, purposefully.

Seeing the threatening gait, Alice held up her hands. "Piper I'm so sorry about-"

The wind was knocked out of Alice as Piper's arms wrapped around her, constricting her into a tight hug.

Expecting to have been knocked flat on her ass from her cousin's reaction, it took a while for her brain to process the hug.

"Damn, Allie, look at you," Piper commented, pulling away.

"It's good to see you, given the circumstances," Alice said. "I'm really sorry about your mom."

Piper nodded. "But what, what happened? Seth said it was a demon?"

Alice hung her head. "It was. Two. They-they were possessing my kids and they got Jan right before she exorcised them."

"They were in your _kids?"_ Piper's voice showed an inkling of disgust as she landed on those words.

Alice nodded.

"Are they okay?"

"They're alive...they'll be okay...eventually." At least, that was what she hoped.

"Oh, Alice, I'm so sorry," Piper crooned, pulling her cousin into a hug again. Alice didn't if it was the alcohol or the similar maternal instincts, but she distinctly recalled Piper had never been much of a touchy-feely hugger.

But who knew? Maybe things had changed in the past decade.

"Pipe, Mom wanted all of us there when we sprinkled her ashes in Lake Michigan," Seth said.

She sniffled. "Just like Dad, huh?" There was a tone of bitterness in her voice.

"Piper…"

"Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't go, okay? Despite _everything_...I'll be there."

"And...what if Olivia shows up?" Seth asked carefully. There were times in the past where even mentioning their other sister's name caused Piper to shut down.

Piper licked her lips, and looked in the opposite direction, contemplating the question. "Hey, I won't stop her. It's her mother, too. Just don't expect me to welcome her with open arms."

Seth raised an impressed eyebrow. The fact that Piper even said that...he remembered the last time his sisters saw each other. There were a lot of tears...and a few fists being thrown. It had been a pretty ugly sight.

Alice desperately wanted to ask what had happened between her two cousins, but the vibes that rolled off Piper made if very clear she didn't wish to elaborate further.

"Well…" Piper rubbed her hand together like she was creating fire. "I guess I should tell Merrill."

Seth shuffled his feet, no doubt trying to banish the image of seeing his niece dressed like a prostitute. "She uh...already knows. She told us where you were."

"Oh, I see."

"What were you hunting, exactly?"

"A nest of vamps."

"You scouting out some information tonight?" Seth asked, trying to think about anything except his family.

Piper eyed him, knowing it had been more than awhile since he'd hunted. "No. Just blowing off some steam. Merrill kept trying to pick a fight with me and I figured giving her some space was the best thing to do."

He found himself frowning. "You find anything else about the vamps?"

Piper shrugged. "There's six of them. They seem to go after people no one will miss. You know, drug addicts, homeless people, hookers."

Alice's eyes widened at that. She looked over at Seth who seemed to realize the same thing.

"Hookers?" Seth demanded.

"Prostitutes?" Piper corrected herself, not understanding why Seth was reacting this way.

"Oh my God…" Seth ran a hand through his hair. The outfit Merrill was wearing...the machete...how she said she was working a case. And the fact she seemed to want her mother out of the motel room this particular night.

"Merrill," Alice found herself whispering, understanding Seth's dawning realization.

"We have to go!" Breaking into a full out sprint, Seth began towards the motel room. Caught off guard, Alice and Piper trailed behind him, neither having a chance to say anything.

It was only when Piper saw her motel room door kicked in that she began to panic. Pushing past Seth into the room, she looked around.

The place was a mess. A mattress was thrown against a wall, dresser thrown on it's side. Clothes were strewn about everywhere, and there was a red-tinted machete, on the blood-soaked carpet.

"Merrill?" Piper ran to the bathroom only to find it was in as much disarray as the rest of the space. "MERRILL!" She screamed, coming back into the main room.

Out of breath from racing to the room, Alice found herself holding onto the door frame for dear life. She watched as everything moved in muted slow motion. Seth grabbed onto Piper's shoulders and began screaming at her, over her trying to call for her daughter.

"She's gone," Alice found herself whispering, unable to formulate any other words. "She's gone."

* * *

Noah tried hard to keep focused.

But he was _just so bored._

Bobby had tried to devote even more time to trying to teach Noah the ins and outs of hunting. They had moved onto the topic of different kinds of weapons, and Noah wished he had one to poke his own eye out with.

"And what would you use this for?" Bobby prompted. From the couch, Noah rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe Bobby had a projector, let alone a million overhead sheets of pictures of knives.

"That? You want me to tell you what that's for?"

"Yep," Bobby replied.

" _That?_ That's a cheese cutter."

The older man smirked. "So you _have_ been paying attention. What's-"

"It's a scimitar," Noah said, about a second after the slide appeared.

"And this-"

"That's a machete. You can use it to decapitate a vampire."

"And this one."

"A long sword? It's pretty impractical, unless you were fighting off some guy in a suit of armor, or wanna poke a hole in some monster. But that's pretty useless if you have to carry that around. Can we move onto guns now?"

Bobby removed the slide from the projector, so there was just a square of light up against the wall. The entire time he was talking about the history of the weapons and what they were used for, it looked like Noah wasn't paying attention half the time. He switched between doodling in his notebook and staring at the ceiling.

"What was the thirteenth weapon I showed you?" Bobby queried casually. He shuffled through the slides and found the answer.

Noah huffed and glanced at his cast for a moment. "It was a...Bowie knife."

"How do you kill a vengeful spirit?"

"Either salt and burn the bones, or salt and burn the object the spirit is attached to. Iron doesn't hurt either."

"Can you recite an exorcism?"

"Dunno."

"How about you just draw me a devil's trap symbol, then."

As if he was asked to do the most tedious task in the world, Noah petulantly grabbed a notebook nearby, flipped to a clean page, and began to scribble the symbol, unceremoniously.

When he was done, about fifteen seconds later, he tossed the notebook towards Bobby. "There you go."

Bobby picked up the paper and stared at it, incredulously. "Noah, do you like school?"

The boy shrugged. "Yeah, I actually do."

"What do you like about it?"

"Well, I get to hang out with my friends all day…"

"What about the subjects?"

"I mean, they're pretty boring."

"But do you find them challenging? Do you think school is hard, Noah?"

"I mean it's annoying...am I supposed to think it's hard? I thought school was supposed to be easy?"

Bobby felt himself smiling. "Do you pay attention a lot in class?"

Noah shrugged again, feeling like he was under interrogation, on the verge of being in trouble. "I mean...I don't know. I try, but it's so _slow._ They just keep repeating the same thing over and over again and I _get it_ but they keep talking about it, so I just zone out."

"Am I going too slow in what I'm teaching you, Noah?"

Noah shrugged, but tried to make it look like Bobby wasn't.

"You can be honest," Bobby said.

With that allowance, Noah let his head flop against the back of the couch. " _Yes."_

Feeling a bit proud, Bobby stepped away from the projector, flipping it off. "How about we take a break for awhile, huh?"

Noah reached nearby for his crutches. "Can I go outside for awhile?"

Bobby nodded. "Sure, just don't go too far."

Noah looked down at what held him up. "I don't think that'll be a problem."

"Maybe not," Bobby said. As he watched Noah go out through the back door, he felt his entire view of the young boy change. Maybe everything he knew about the child was right, but his perception of it was wrong.

* * *

"You sure you're okay to go in there right now?"

The sound of a hunting knife being pulled out of a sheath, was all the answer Piper offered, as she slammed the car door shut behind her.

"This is bad. This is very bad," Seth growled as he followed Piper towards the dilapidated house. Not only was his teenage niece kidnapped by vampires, but her intoxicated mother was on the warpath to save her. And Seth-who hadn't hunted in years-yielded the machete like a toddler holding a butter knife. On top of that, he was stuck with Alice, who was so shaky with a gun loaded with dead man's blood, that he could see her entire outline throbbing from the fear and anxiety.

 _Yep,_ he decided. They were the hunter dream team.

As they reached the front door, Seth glanced back over his shoulder. "Hey, how about you hang back and cover us?" He asked in a calm voice.

Looking as if someone had just asked her to explain the entirety of Einstein's theories, Alice paled noticeably. "Um…"

Seeing her begin to panic, Seth retracted his words. "Okay, just hang back then. Alright?" He didn't even wait for her response, because the sound of the front door being knocked down swivelled his attention back to Piper, who had gone in, her figurative guns blazing.

"Goddamnit Piper!" Seth yelled, charging in after her, as she yelled incoherently at the top of her lungs for the vampires to show themselves.

Getting her wish, a male vampire that looked like a California surfer, appeared in an open doorway. "You hunters just get dumber and stupider don't you?"

Clearly not thinking, Piper swung her weapon at the vamp's neck. He blocked it easily and twisted her arm, so she ended up on her knees.

Seth took the opportunity and swung his own weapon towards the distracted monster. There was a pause, and then the decapitated head rolled away from the body. Kicking the corpse away from herself and standing, Piper thanked her brother and charged at two more vampires that appeared.

A third one came out of nowhere and tackled Seth around his midsection. "Alice!" He called, breathlessly.

She shifted at the mention of her name, hidden behind a couch, only peeking out from the top. She watched as her two cousins were outnumbered and beat up by vampires. And she knew that if she didn't do anything, they were going to die or be turned. So, shakily, she she shot blindly, letting several bullets ricochet around the room.

Luckily, one of the bullets hit one of the vampires that was double-teaming Piper. Using the leverage of the dead weight, she kicked it into the other vamp and rolled back up onto her feet, taking the advantage to slice at the other vamp. The creature cried out in pain as the weapon sliced her arm clean off, right above the elbow. Taking the moment, Alice aimed the gun at the vampire and shot again, a bullet landing in the shoulder.

A few seconds later, the one-armed vampire dropped, and Piper quickly finished it off. She went to assist her brother, and together they took down the remaining two.

When the vamps were scattered across the floor, Seth wiped a splatter of blood away from his eyes. Breathing heavily, he glanced at Alice, who appeared shaken up. "Good job," he offered.

"Thanks," she replied.

"And you." Seth turned towards his sister. "What the hell were you thinking? Charging into a nest of vamps like that?! You could've gotten yourself and us killed-"

"We don't have time for this right now, Seth! There's still two more and Merrill's gotta be in here somewhere!"

Realizing that although she was stupid and impulsive, Piper was right. Seth reluctantly agreed and flanked Piper as she checked the rest of the first floor, only to find the rest of the level empty. There was a set of rickety, narrow stairs in the back of the house that led up to a single, dark room.

At the top of the steps, Piper fumbled along for the wall, and flipped on a light switch.

A sickly, pale light invaded the space, not doing much except pushing the shadows further up the wall. There was a broken chair in one corner of the room, where the wall began slant into the roof.

A pathetic lump of a figure was huddled underneath the window. Recognizing the light brown mess of hair, Piper lurched forward and hovered over the still individual, dropping her knife to the ground. "Merrill?" She whispered carefully, moving aside a lock of hair.

Seth cleared the rest of the room. In the opposite corner, there was a body with a decapitated head laid carefully on the chest. Near the broken chair was a seemingly knocked out vamp with it's mouth slightly open, teeth descended. Seth made quick work to slaughter the remaining one.

"There were just six, right?" He checked.

"Yeah. Yeah. Merrill?" Piper slapped her daughter's cheek slightly. Her hands clenched around her daughter's shoulders and shook her lightly.

Watching Piper beg her daughter to wake up pulled Alice back in time. In a dingy garage, she had watched as black smoke poured out of her children's mouths. She remembered watching their pale, still bodies, flopping to the ground, and Dean dragging them closer to himself. She remembered believing their souls were extinct.

A soft sound escaped from the teenager's throat. It was like a valve releasing a ton of pent up pressure. And when the valve was devoid of air, Merrill took in a deep, gusting breath and opened her green eyes, staring straight up at the slanted ceiling, her first thought, _am I a vampire or am I dead?_

However, Merrill quickly learned neither were true when her mother swooped her up into her arms and alternated between yelling at her for being bait for vampires and saying how glad she was that she was okay.

When Piper was satisfied Merrill wasn't hurt too bad, she pulled the two of them up and then lost it. "What the hell were you thinking, Merrill?"

The teenager's defensive spikes immediately rose again. "What? I was just working the case."

"Sure as hell sounds like it." Piper pointed back at her brother and cousin. "They told me you were trying to bait the vamps."

To Merrill, the three adults looked like they were butchers. It was evident they had killed the remaining monsters.

It was also evident Seth and Alice had ratted her out to Piper.

"You know, I had it handled before you two butted in," Merrill retorted.

"You fucking serious?" Seth asked. He was close to spitting nails.

"You blew my cover. I bet as soon as the vamps saw you guys come to the room, they knew we were hunters."

"And I would've found you dead if they hadn't showed up!" Piper yelled, her voice one notch louder than Merrill's.

Merrill swiped at her face and stared out the small, dingy window. "Did you know I managed to take down two vamps? I killed one and shot the other one with dead man's blood."

"It doesn't matter because there were still four more to jump you!" The alcohol was quickly wearing off, and Piper was alternating between wanting to strangle her daughter and have another cigarette.

"But Mom I-"

"That's not the point, Merrill! I know you're a damn good hunter, but not even someone who's been hunting for decades would expose themselves like that when hunting down a nest!" Piper wouldn't deny that Merrill had the skills, but she was still just a teenager and made reckless, stupid mistakes.

Piper sighed when Merrill just glared at her from underneath her eyelashes. "Merrill, you don't have to prove anything. I've treated you as an adult so long as you can act like one.

"So what's going on?" Piper asked.

Merrill bit her lip and inwardly chastised herself. Of course her mother could look past all the bullshit. They spent all their time together and knew each other like the back of their hands.

There was a noticeable shift in Merrill's demeanor. Her shoulders slumped and she expelled a troubled sigh. "Dad called me today."

There was a hush of silence in the air. Piper wanted to drop her mouth open in shock, but didn't.

"What'd he want?" She asked evenly.

Merrill fidgeted. "He just wanted to talk."

She continued before her mother could interject, growing angrier that more she thought and talked about it. "He's got some _nerve._ Just calls me and tries to act like he has any right to know what's going on with my life or tell me what to do. And what he did to _you_ -and still he thinks he's allowed to even mention your name.

"I hate him. I hate him so much." Suddenly, Merrill was bent forward, her arms wrapped around her stomach, like she was in pain.

Piper rushed forward and wrapped an around around her daughter. She glanced back at her brother and cousin. "Could you give us a few minutes?"

"We'll be outside," Seth responded, feeling sick to his stomach. He motioned for Alice to follow him down the stairs and out the front door. He took a seat on one of the steps and Alice sat beside him.

She so desperately wanted to ask him about Merrill's father and Piper's ex-what the man had done that left such a gaping hole in their lives. But, she could tell how raw and exposed the emotions were that she refrained from asking.

Glancing over at Seth, she noted he was covered in dried blood from his hair to shoes. She undoubtedly looked the same way and wished she could take a shower and wash away the residue. As a nurse, she had never shied away from blood, but this was different.

"Seth?" Alice asked, quietly.

At first, Seth didn't seem to hear what she said. In reality, he was thinking about how he didn't want to have to explain Piper and Merrill's situation, that one of them should. Eventually, he responded. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I ran you out of your own house."

He frowned. "Huh?"

Alice clasped her hands together. "I'm sorry if I'm the reason you no longer felt welcome in your own home. I didn't mean to shove you to the side. I just couldn't live with my parents anymore."

That floored Seth. It was something he tried not to think about. He tried to block out Chicago and anything to do with it in general. But now, he couldn't any longer. "You didn't run me out of my house, Alice."

It didn't seem to do much to reassure her. Perhaps she thought he was just trying to appease her, make her feel better.

"It wasn't your fault," he reiterated. "I was looking for a reason to leave for a long time before that, I think. I guess you showing up was just a convenient excuse. I know you had nowhere else to go."

"Still though…" Alice was a bit unsure, still.

"Can I be honest with you?" Seth asked, staring out at the pothole-riddled road.

"Of course…"

"I always felt like Mom liked you better than us. Maybe she saw you as the version of her sister she wished she had. Or maybe she saw you as a daughter that hadn't been corrupted by hunting. Cause lemme tell you having Piper and Olivia as older sisters was terrible. Can only imagine what raising them was like. And maybe she wanted a daughter that didn't make her pull her hair out day in and day out

"Or maybe she saw what she had done to her own kids and realized you were what we should've been."

Alice felt herself scoffing. "Yeah, right. Pregnant at seventeen and then again and nineteen. I'm sure I'm the gold standard."

"To her you were."

Biting her knuckle, Alice tried to keep the tears at bay. The fact that Jan had thought so dearly of her made her want to weep. But also, the fact Jan's own children felt so alienated from their mother made her want to shudder as well, because she could understand feeling like that.

" _God,_ " Alice lamented.

"She was a complicated woman," Seth offered. "And even after everything, I still loved her. You know, there were so many times I thought about picking up the phone and just calling her."

"Why didn't you?" Alice asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Guess my pride or something stupid like that."

"Well aren't we just the poster-children for parent issues?" Alice offered with a watery laugh.

Seth scoffed. "Yeah...but who isn't?"

* * *

In the pouring rain, Dean was pressing his foot down on the pedal of the decrepit minivan, urging it to go faster. They had left the Roadhouse with a new casefile, and an interesting one at that.

Sam, who had been researching the file, fed the information to Dean while he drove.

"You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?"

Sam glanced at the backseat, seeing Cara's eyes closed and her head resting against the seat.

"Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Actually, he ripped them to pieces."

"And the family was at some carnival. Right?"

Sam nodded, shuffling through the papers. "Yeah. The Cooper Carnivals."

"And how do you know this isn't just some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

"Well..the cops have no viable leads. And all the employees were tearing down shop when it happened, so they had alibis all around. Plus this little girl said the clown vanished into thin air. But you know, cops are saying trauma."

Dean felt himself chuckling slightly. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?"

Immediately returning to his default bitch face-at least according to Dean-he scoffed. "Oh please. Gimme a break."

The two went on to taunt each other about their fears and Sam brought up the fact Dean was deathly afraid of airplanes.

Coughing, Dean quickly changed the subject. "So these types of murders. They ever happen before?"

Explaining the history of the place, Sam mentioned how the killings began over twenty years ago and repeated three different times after that.

"But it's weird, right? I mean, a spirit is usually bound to a specific locale."

"So how's it moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked.

"Cursed object? Maybe."

Sam scoffed and slammed the folder shut. "Great. A paranormal scavenger hunt."

"Well...I mean this case was your idea. By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on that job," Dean noted.

Sam wanted to tell him he was the one to thrust his child into potential danger. "So?" Sam finally settled for, as a pathetic, lackluster response.

"It's just not like you. That's all. I just thought you were hellbent on finding the demon."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I just think that this is a job. It's what Dad would've wanted us to do."

Dean frowned. "What would have Dad wanted?" He asked, as if Sam somehow had some secret knowledge-Dean _did_ in fact have some secret knowledge from John and it was tearing him up inside.

Sensing a certain level of combativeness in his brother's voice, Sam shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

"Nothing," Dean responded.

"So, we should probably swing by Bobby's," Sam suggested.

"What for?"

Sam glanced in the back where Cara was sleeping. "To drop her off."

"Come on Sam, that's in the complete opposite direction."

The younger brother felt himself laughing in disbelief. "Well what? You just gonna hand her a shotgun and let her track down a killer clown with us?"

Dean's silence caused Sam's jaw to drop open. "You can't be serious."

"I don't know. Maybe I am," Dean offered quietly, defensively.

"She's _ten,_ Dean," Sam exclaimed.

"And what were _we_ doing when we were her age, Sam?" Dean shot back.

"You can't…"

"Oh I can't? You're not her father, Sam."

"Look, maybe it was one thing to track down some random woman, but now you're willingly and _knowingly_ okay with throwing her into a dangerous situation-"

"You said the clown doesn't go after that kids. She'll be fine."

"She doesn't have any training, Dean! She's probably never even held a gun-"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?!" Dean suddenly exploded. He glanced in the rearview mirror and held his breath when Cara stirred but didn't wake.

"What am I supposed to do?" Dean asked, more levelly. "Do you expect them to just going back to being kids after what happened to them? They were _possessed,_ Sam; neither of us even know what that feels like.

"Look, I tried for over a decade to keep them as far away from hunting as I could. And you know what it did? It just caused this giant rift in their lives. And even after doing everything I could, they still got pulled in.

"I know you know what that feels like. You tried so hard to shield Jessica from all of this-"

" _Don't,"_ Sam warned.

"All I'm saying is don't accuse me of not doing what's best for them. I tried to act like not teaching them how to hunt was the way to go. But apparently no one cared. Even Bobby went behind my back and started teaching them stuff. So maybe actually teaching them how to defend themselves is the best way to go."

After all, Dean knew that his protection basically meant nothing at this point. He had already let the worst thing happen to his children and as much as he wanted to deny the fact, his kids were right.

"But shouldn't they start to walk before they run?" Sam asked, a bit subdued. It was the most Dean had talked to him about he was feeling since their father had died.

"I'm not gonna give her a grenade launcher and send her off on her merry way. I've always had her and Noah's best interests in mind, don't think I don't Sam." There was a warning edge in his voice.

"Alright, alright; I get it...but what about Alice?"

Dean sighed. Honestly? He had been putting off talking to her. He knew she was busy, but talking about letting their kids hunt or at least train to defend themselves was a conversation he really didn't want to have. "It's something I have to tell her in person," Dean offered.

"Well-" Sam slammed the file shut. "-I guess in that case, let's go find a killer clown."

* * *

Early the next morning, the brothers and Cara pulled up to Cooper's Carnival. It was a dusty, sad looking place, with an unsettling vibe, and Cara didn't know why any kid in their right mind would find a place like this fun.

"Hey, check it out, five-oh," Sam indicted toward a couple suits talking to some carnies. As he said that, a woman dressed up as a clown slowly walked in front of the trio, and stared Sam down.

Cara looked up at her uncle he didn't break gaze with the woman as she passed. It was only that the clown turned and started walking in the other direction that Sam let out a breath.

"Should've gotten her number," Dean egged.

"That's not funny, Dean," Sam mumbled.

"She was shorter than me," Cara added with a chuckle.

Sam gaped at his niece in disbelief while Dean let out a proud laugh.

"So more murders?"

Still laughing, Dean began to fill Sam in. "Two more last night. Apparently there were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown," Sam said.

Dean gave his brother a strange look.

"What?"

Shaking his head, Dean trucked past the awkward phrasing. "Yeah, a clown who apparently vanished into thin air."

"Dean, you know looking for a cursed object is like finding a needle in a stack of needles?"

"Well it's bound to give off EMF."

"That's electromagnetic frequency, right?" Cara questioned.

"Electromagnetic field," Sam corrected.

"But ghosts give it off, right? It's like energy?" Cara asked.

"That's right. I guess we'll just have to scan everything," Dean said.

"Oh good. Nice and inconspicuous," Sam groaned.

"I guess we'll just have to blend in."

"That's easier said than-" Looking up, Sam followed where Dean was pointing, to a help wanted sign.

" _Awesome."_

* * *

"A killer clown?" Noah asked into the phone.

Cara, using her dad's phone, was talking to her brother while Sam and Dean scoured the carnival for EMF. The only stipulation was to not call her mother. Agreeing, Cara spent some time playing Brick Breaker, but even that got boring after awhile. She was sitting on a bench near one of the rides bored out of her mind, bored enough that she actually was willing to talk to her brother. Perhaps now she knew how he felt sitting on the couch all day.

"Yeah it's already killed four people."

"That's so cool. _And_ you get to spend the entire day at a carnival."

Cara looked around distastefully. All the rides looked like death traps. "Yeah, it's great. Have you heard from Mom?"

"Nope. You?"

"No. Nothing. Where do you think she is?"

"Don't know. She went to Wisconsin to find Seth, but who knows now...I miss her."

"Yeah," Cara commiserated. "And I kinda wish we could just go home."

"Yeah. At least I can play my Xbox there."

Cara scoffed. "How have you survived that long without it?" She asked mockingly.

As Noah responded, Cara saw Sam and Dean approaching, wearing red jackets that was the uniform of the carnival employees. "Hey, I've gotta go. Dad and Sam are coming back."

"Okay I-" Cara pulled the phone away from her ear and hung it up, finally glad to have something to do.

"What'd you find?" Cara asked.

As she said that, there was another little girl that said. "Mommy, look! A clown!"

The Winchesters turned to look at where the girl was pointing.

Immediately, Cara saw what she was talking about.

Normally, she didn't think clowns were scary-she thought they were stupid.

But this one? There seemed to be something sinister about it.

And then, just like that, it was gone.

It was obvious Sam and Dean didn't see it, as they looked between each other in confusion, before glancing back at Cara.

She had been sitting on the bench but was now standing and had taken a few steps back. Her eyes were still fixed on the spot where the clown had been.

"Cara?" Dean asked, concerned at how wide her eyes had gotten.

"I saw it," she said in a quiet voice.

"You did?" Sam asked.

She nodded, eyes still fixated on the spot where the clown had been.

"Well...at least we know who they're going after, next," Dean said.

* * *

That night, Cara was waiting in the car while Sam and Dean had snuck into the house of the little girl who had seen the clown. It had been what felt like hours since they had been gone, but she knew it had only been about twenty minutes. She was laid across the back seat, dozing in and out of consciousness, the creepy clown still on her mind.

Just as she was toeing the edge of dreamland, there was a light tapping at the window.

Blinking her eyes, Cara turned her head to the source of the sound. It was dark outside, but she was still immediately able to make out the figure of a clown, standing on the outside of the car, tapping on the back window with one finger.

She hadn't seen him close up before, only a faraway glimpse. But only separated by thin pane of glass, her blood began to run cold. His face was painted white, the skin underneath flaky and dry, creating an uneven distribution. Bells on his costume jingled every time he moved.

But by far, the creepiest part was the painted smile he wore, stretched wide and menacing.

After a moment, tapping became more insistent, until the clown was pounding his fist against the window, demandingly.

Reacting, Cara pushed herself back against the opposite side of the van, onto the floor, trying to put as much space between herself and clown as she could. Blindly fumbling around in the backseat, she tried to find anything she could use to defend herself.

From inside the house, Sam and Dean were racing out of it, after shooting the clown. All that was on their mind was to book it to the car before the cops got there or the family could identify them.

But as they flew from the house, Dean nearly froze on the lawn. The clown-that they had just shot-was pounding against the backdoor of the car, where his child was.

"HEY!" Dean yelled gruffly, hoping to get the clown's attention. He drew his gun and aimed it at the monster. "Cara, duck!" He yelled, not knowing if she would hear him or not. But all he could think about was getting the thing away from her.

Finally, the monster turned just as Dean pulled the trigger. But the creature had learned fast, because as soon as the bullet was free from the chamber, the monster vanished.

With nothing to hit, the bullet slammed into the window the clown had been tapping on.

There was the sound of glass shattering and a scream.

"Cara!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, we have to go!" Sam demanded, pulling his brother towards the car. The father of the child who had seen the clown was running towards them, a bat raised over his head. Sirens blared in the distance.

Listening to his brother, Dean threw himself into the driver's side and began to pull away, just as Sam was slamming the passenger door shut.

"Cara? Cara are you okay? Sam, check her," Dean requested, worriedly. He was trying to glance back, but also had to focus on getting them the hell away from a potential crime scene.

"On it, Dean."

Leaning back, Sam noted the shower of glass across the back seat. There was a small lump behind his seat, crowded on the floor of the van. Feeling through the dark with his hand, Sam found Cara's back. Brushing the glass off of her, Sam tried to coax her to come out of her position.

"Hey, Cara, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Sam asked calmly, trying to keep his voice calm.

"No," she muttered into the floor. Still, she didn't move from the position.

"Everything's okay, the clown's gone," Sam soothed. She nodded but didn't respond, still wound in her little ball in the back seat.

Dean drove like a bat out of hell for a good thirty minutes, trying to lose the trail the cops might've had. Eventually, he pulled over to the side of the road, and pulled the keys from the ignition. "We need to ditch this ride," Dean said.

Sam frowned. "You think they saw the plates?"

"I don't wanna take the chance. Besides, I hate this freaking thing anyway." Dean quickly removed the plates from the car and shoved them into his bag.

Next, he walked to the back of the car and slid open the door closest to Cara.

Kneeling down outside the car, Dean placed a hand on her head. "Cara?" He asked softly. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay."

Hearing her father's voice, Cara allowed herself to poke her head up from where it was buried in her hands. More glass fell from her hair and she sat up.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Dean intoned, brushing some flakes from her hairline. "You're not hurt, are you?" He asked, checking her other for injuries.

"No."

She seemed fairly uninjured, besides for the trauma. Stonily glancing down at the carpeted van floor, Cara reached forward and pulled out an object. It was a tiny, metal bullet, the one that had shattered the window and scared the absolute crap out of her.

Laying the offensive object beside herself on the floor, Cara didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say or how she was supposed to feel.

Reaching forward, Dean pulled her forward into a tight hug, apologizing under his breath for scaring her. He rubbed his hand across her back, soothingly. She numbly returned the hug, no longer shaking.

"Dad?" Cara asked. Her voice sounded faraway.

"Yeah?"

"I'm tired," Cara said.

Dean sighed and pulled away, glancing around the deserted, dark road. "That's okay, Cara...okay, here, hop on." He bent down in front of her and Cara carefully wrapped her arms around his neck. He was beginning to think ditching the car with a tired and traumatized ten-year-old wasn't the best choice, but his burning hatred for that hunk of metal outweighed the other considerations.

Once Cara's arms were secured, Dean reached down and grabbed his and her bags. He nodded to his brother. "Let's get outta here."

With his daughter's head rested on his shoulder, Dean and his brother got the hell out of there, gladly leaving the dying minivan behind like a mosquito trapped in amber.

* * *

Alice found herself back at the Whitetooth. The place was noticeably less crowded and she was able to procure a high-top table with Piper and Seth. Merrill had passed out back at the motel room.

However, it didn't take long for Seth to catch the attention of a young woman, one with flaming red hair done in two plaits and freckled skin. He was currently teaching her how to play darts.

Piper glanced back at him, as he was guiding the woman's arm on how to line up a shot. She turned with snort. "Glad to see he's still quite the ladies' man."

Alice nodded along absent mindedly. She had washed the blood off, but still felt like everyone was staring at her, like she was a leper spotted in a monster's insides.

"My _God_ this has been a crazy night. And the adrenaline is still flowing, am I right? I feel like I could run a marathon. But actually...I could use a cigarette." Reaching into her pocket, Piper grabbed a square and glanced at Alice. "You mind?"

Alice waved her hand. Normally, she would've minded having someone blow smoke into her face, but she was so wrapped up in everything that happened that she didn't even seem to notice.

"So how are you, Alice? Seth said this was the first hunt for you?"

"Second."

Piper nodded. "It's wild, isn't it?" The thrill of killing the vampires seemed to tamp down the fact her daughter had almost been killed. However, Alice wondered if that was a coverup to the conversation the mother and daughter had had afterwards.

"It's…" Alice didn't know how to describe her feelings to being on a hunt. The first one had broken her heart. And this one still left her shaken.

Piper blew out another puff of smoke, observing her cousin through the haze. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm-"

"Okay just wondering, because you look like Bambi after he just watched his mother get shot," Piper offered bluntly.

"It that obvious?"

She gave an apologetic smile. "Afraid so. But don't worry: it takes anyone a while to find their sea legs."

Alice opened her mouth to tell Piper she had no more intentions of going on anymore hunts, but she stopped herself. "What was it like? Growing up hunting?"

Piper chewed on her lip for a moment, contemplating what she was going to say. "To me, it was completely normal. I can't remember a time when I didn't know about monsters. It was so embedded in my childhood. But I guess it kind of felt like being the Jewish kid in class during Christmas, you know? I knew Santa wasn't real but I couldn't tell any of the other kids about it. It was the same with hunting.

"That was the number one rule in my house: don't tell anyone about what Mommy and Daddy actually do." There was a mix of fondness and bitterness in her voice. It was apparent both Seth and Piper had mixed feelings about their childhood. Again, Alice had no trouble empathizing with them.

"And Merrill?"

Piper shrugged. "The same way, I guess. It's always been a part of her life." Leaning back in the chair, Piper aimed the next exhale of smoke towards the ceiling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, seemingly relaxed.

"What's it like...hunting with your kid?" Alice asked carefully.

Eyes flicking back towards Seth, Piper watched as the red-haired girl was leading him out of the bar. She thought about what to say. It wasn't really something someone that wasn't a hunter had ever asked her, especially someone who was so new to the supernatural world, and actually had kids. "Well...you know this job ages the hell outta you. And same with kids-you have two, so I know you can relate. So combine hunting and parenting into one. Basically, I'm due to die from old age in week."

"So then why do you do it?" Alice asked.

"Never said I didn't like it. I tried the whole housewife thing. Apparently I wasn't very good at it."

"Piper...what happened with Cliff?" Alice had been wondering about the man both Piper and Merrill scorned with all their might. Vaguely, Alice remembered briefly meeting Cliff. He had seemed like a fairly innocuous guy, maybe just a little too square for Piper.

The way her lips curled in distaste was obvious. And Alice was already trying to walk back her question. "No. No. It's fine. I'll tell you."

"My _ex_ thought hunting was...distasteful. You know, he was a pastor, thought it was a sin. So I left the life for him. Everything I had ever known because I really loved him, thought he was a good man. I became a stay at home mother, a preacher's wife. But…" Piper was picking at the hem of her shirt, as if she didn't want to look at Alice when she told her.

"See...according to _Pastor Clifford Skozen,_ hunting was a sin. But apparently cheating on your wife with your sister-in-law isn't."

The drink was halfway to Alice's mouth. The glass nearly slipped from her hand, clattering to the table loudly.

From her side, Piper agitatedly crossed on leg over the other. The cigarette was clamped tightly between two fingers. It was apparent the conversation still wound her up.

"Piper. I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

"Well...now you do. I know you were curious. But now, l'd like to talk about something else."

There was silence for awhile, and then the two found a common ground: motherhood.

However, Alice's questions unconsciously steered the conversation back to what it was like to hunt with Merrill.

"I worry about her. Of course I do. How could a mother not? And others may think I'm absolutely crazy for allowing my teenage daughter to hunt with me, but I know her and she knows me. I trust her more than any Joe Hunter I've ever worked with. She's even better than a couple of them.

"What we have is reliable. I know her strengths and weaknesses and it's someone I can count on...even if she drives me up the wall.

"But I'd much rather have her learn from me. And it lets me keep my eye on her.

"It's the family business," Piper said, leaning back into her chair. "And one day, when we're dead and gone, our kids are gonna carry the torch of our legacy, whether we or they like it or not."

Piper noted Alice seemed to be absorbing everything like a sponge, taking mental notes in her mind, as if cataloging the information. Piper thought her cousin was always very systematic like that, logical and rational. Every decision she made was weighed carefully and was always pondered for awhile.

"What are you thinking about, Alice?"

Chewing on her nail, Alice felt herself shrugging. "I don't know. I'm just...thinking."

* * *

The sun was low in the sky as the trio walked back towards a motel-any motel, anywhere to sleep. Cara was now awake, and walking a few paces back from her father.

Sam who had just gotten off the phone with Ellen, returned. "Rakshasa."

"What's that?" Dean asked, frowning.

Sam shrugged. "Ellen's best guess. Apparently it's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, feeding on human flesh. They can make themselves invisible, but can't enter a home without being invited in.

Although it wasn't a home, Cara wondered if that was why the monster hadn't just broken into the van.

"So they dress up like clowns and then children invite 'em in."

"I don't know any kid that would invite a creepy clown into their house," Cara retorted. Dean smirked slightly.

"And why they don't just munch on the kids instead? If we're so willing to let them in?" Cara asked skeptically. She couldn't imagine the idea of letting a creepy carnie into her house in the middle of the night. But apparently those kids who did sounded like easy prey.

Sam grimaced. "No idea. Maybe not even meat on their bones?"

Dean shuddered.

"Gross," Cara agreed.

"What else did you find out?"

"Well. apparently they live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

"Nice," Dean said, while Cara made a retching sound at the same time.

"Are all monsters this gross?" Cara asked.

"Most of 'em," Dean said fondly, ruffling her hair. It was amazing how easily she had inserted herself into the hunt, and how naturally the three were discussing the hunt.

God, Alice was going to kill him.

"Yeah and get this: they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess."

Dean nodded. "Well, that makes sense. I mean, the carnival today, and then again back in eighty-one."

"Right, and probably more before that."

A light bulb flashed in Dean's brain. "Hey Sam, who do we know that worked both shows?"

"Cooper?" Sam asked, naming the man whose family had owned the carnival. "You know, that picture of his father? It looked just like him."

"You think maybe it was him?"

"Well, who knows how old he is?"

Cara silently watched the exchange, feeling the situation get more and more trippy.

"Ellen say how to gank him?"

Sam nodded. "Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass'll do the trick."

Contemplating it, Dean felt himself smiling. "I think I know where we can get one of those."

* * *

"Come on boy, I don't got all day," Bobby yelled gruffly, over his shoulder.

Noah huffed as he hobbled after Bobby. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've only got one working leg here."

Turning, Bobby raised a warning eyebrow at the boy. "I see your mouth is still running just fine."

"Sorry," Noah muttered, picking up the pace.

They walked a little further and came to a cleared out area of the salvage yard. A few yards away was a bull's eye target propped up on what looked like an easel. There was a chair next to a small covered table, nearby.

"Take a seat," Bobby said, pointing to the chair.

"Uncle Bobby, what are we doing out here?"

"I'll show ya." In a swift motion, Bobby pulled the sheet off the table, revealing a collection of shiny knives.

Eyes widening, Noah's hand unconsciously reached for one, until Bobby slapped his hand away. "No touching until I tell you it's okay. Okay?"

Noah nodded, transfixed by the gleaming metal.

"Alright boy, I'm gonna teach you the in's and out's of handling, cleaning, and using a couple kinds of knives, since you seem to be a little expert on all the book stuff."

Noah sat up a little straighter. "Does that mean I get to use a jagdkommando?"

"We're working with some of the more practical, l _ess pointy_ ones, today."

Noah nodded, a bit disappointed.

"Alright. Let's get started. Pay attention, because I may even let you try some of them out today," Bobby said. As he turned towards the collection of knives, he realized how ironic everything was. More than twenty years ago, when the boys were at his house, their father on a hunt, John always insisted Bobby keep the boys practicing throwing knives and shooting guns. Instead, Bobby always switched the weapons for actual fun. And a generation later, he was still teaching kids, but the roles had reversed. Instead of throwing around a football, Bobby was actually teaching about hunting.

Shaking his head, Bobby couldn't help but think that he had gone against John's wishes and now that smug bastard was getting his just desserts in some twisted way, by his grandson completing the tasks his son's didn't.

"You bastard," Bobby muttered to himself, seeing the ironic symmetry of it all.

Life was cyclical, and karma was certainly a bastard.

* * *

" _Shit,"_ Dean hissed, as he dove the ground, covering his head with both arms as several knives embedded themselves into the wall. When the brothers had split up at the park-Cara with Sam-Dean had gone to check on the blind guy they'd run into. Dean had initially been asking questions, but after digging through the man's trunk, Dean almost fell over when he found a familiar looking clown costume tucked among the fabrics.

Where he was collapsed against the wall, Dean watched as the blind man's eyes cleared, and his face morph into a horrific smile, before he vanished, the evil grin lingering, like the Cheshire Cat.

Swearing under his breath, Dean tumbled out of the trailer, and landed in the dust. He heard footsteps running towards him and looked up to see his brother and daughter.

"Hey!" Sam yelled.

"Hey," Dean grunted, standing and brushing himself off.

"So...Cooper thinks I'm a peeping Tom but it's not him."

"Yeah. So I gathered. It's the blind guy. He's around here somewhere."

"Well did you get the-"

"The brass blades. No. No man, it's just been one of those days," Dean shot back, sarcastically.

Sam suddenly stood up little straighter. "I've got an idea. Come on!" Turning on his heel, Sam briskly began to walk to the funhouse, situated nearby.

Grabbing Cara's hand without thinking, Dean dragged her with him, trying to keep up with his brother.

They busted through the swinging doors of the funhouse, Cara's feet sliding across the slick floor as she tried to keep up with her father.

All around them, were wonky mirrors that made Cara viscerally sick as they flashed by them. The mirrors distorted and bended reality, making everything turn on it's side.

As Sam was leading the group deeper into the maze, a heavy door suddenly slammed shut behind him, causing Dean and Cara to splat like bugs on a windshield into the sudden barrier.

A rush of air escaped from Cara's lungs and the only thing keeping her from falling on her ass was the grip Dean had around her wrist. "Sam!" Dean yelled, pounding on the door with one hand.

"Dean! Dean, find your way through the maze, okay?" Sam's footsteps were hearing moving around the from the door before Dean could respond.

Huffing stressfully, Dean glanced around and turned a corner. "Keep your eyes sharp, Cara. And don't let go of my hand," Dean told her as he rounded another turn.

"Okay," she responded, out of breath and a bit fearful. She really didn't want to come face to face with the creepy clown again. But it seemed like that's what they were doing.

Cara lost track of the amount of turns they took, but eventually the twisting corridor opened up into a larger area, filled with even more mirrors, and strange artifacts that were hung in shadow boxes built into the wall.

"Hey!" Dean yelled, spotting his brother. Sam was busy trying to break off what looked like a steaming pipe from what looked like a melting organ without the actual piano part.

 _Who the heck comes here for fun?_ Cara thought in her head, slightly confused as to what was going on. She felt like she was in some Alice in Wonderland level nightmare right now.

"Hey! Where is it?" Sam asked, shaking his previously recoiled hand from the hot metal.

"I don't know. I mean, shouldn't we see it's clothes walking around?"

In response to that, there was a whistling through the air, and a knife appeared from the darkness. It flew towards the Winchesters before any of them could react. The knife embedded itself into the wall, pinning Dean's sleeve, right near the wrist, the same hand that had been holding onto Cara.

The young girl jumped back at the knife that had been precisely thrown. Because if it had been a few inches to the side, it would've gone straight through her hand.

"Cara, get back!" Dean yelled as another knife sailed over her head and pinned him by the shoulder.

Moving, Cara went to hide in the corner, partially hidden the smoking columns.

"Sam!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, where is he?" Sam yelled. Thinking quickly, he kicked one of the pipes and dislodged it.

Reaching with his unrestrained arm, Dean reached forward and pulled a lever on the pipes, flooding the room with smoke. In the haze, he could see the faint outline of the monster.

"Sam, behind you!" Dean yelled uselessly, pulling the knife by the handle out of the wall.

Without even turning, Sam trusted Dean's instructions and stabbed the pipe behind himself. He felt the makeshift weapon land into something that felt solid.

Letting go of the pipe, Sam spun around and watched eyes bulge out of the invisible figure. A scream, similar to a train whistle came from the mass. Blood formed around where the pipe hit the monster. There was a flash and the figure dissipated into the floor, leaving behind nothing but a clown's costume and an inoffensive brass pipe.

"That's what you get for nearly scalping my daughter, you son of a bitch," Dean hissed, as he pulled out the last knife holding him to the wall. He backtracked into the room where Cara was hiding. Without warning, he found where she was hidden and scooped her up into a tight hug. "You alright?"

"I hate funhouses," she muttered into his shoulder.

* * *

"Kid, don't you think that's enough for one day?" Bobby asked, as he picked up another knife from off the ground.

"No. Not until I get it," Noah huffed. He was sweating, his leg was itchy under the cast, and he was royally pissed off. He had spent most of the afternoon throwing knives, trying to hit the target. There had been a few times where he'd gotten the edge of the easel, hadn't actually hit the marked target yet.

"You're not gonna become a master knife thrower in one try," Bobby said. He admired the boy's persistence, but he had spent the past few hours wiping his face into his flannel in the summer heat. He just wanted a cold shower and an even colder beer. "How long did it take you to learn how to throw a football, Bobby asked?"

Stopping for a moment, Noah realized the man was right. It had taken him years to learn to throw that perfect spiral. "Fine. You're right. I'm done for today."

 _Thank God,_ Bobby thought as he began to collect the knives. He could tell from the way Noah moved, the boy was disappointed in himself. Noah didn't seem to realize that his ability to learn information so quickly was by and large and impressive skill, and that his inability to perfect knife throwing in a day was more in the norm.

"You did good today," Bobby said gruffly, as he slowly walked back to the house with Noah. The boy was trying not to wince, but it was obvious his arm hurt from throwing for so long, and now it had to prop up the crutch that propped up his weight.

He was a tough kid.

"Really?" Noah asked.

Bobby nodded as the house came into sight. "Damn straight. And look, I know you're all twisted up your mom is off finding her cousins, and that your dad took your sister with him, and that you were left here with me, but I promise there'll be a time when you get to show what you're made of."

Noah let out a very quiet sigh. He glanced down at the cast that encased his leg. If felt heavy, like an anchor dragging him to the bottom of the ocean. He knew that Cara thought about being possessed as much as he did, but she no longer had a physical, visible reminder of what happened. And every time Noah saw it and remembered he couldn't walk without assistance-God knows how long it would be until he could ever run again-he wanted to do something about it.

And he'd been bitter. He had blamed Cara for opening the door, and then his parents for keeping him in the dark, and them himself for that unsettling feeling he had ahead of time but did nothing about. Maybe it was everyone's fault and no one's, but at this moment, the only thing Noah could do was hobble along until he could stand on two feet.

Looking up at his surrogate uncle, Noah nodded. "I know. I know my time's gonna come. And it'll be here sooner than later."

* * *

 **A Few Days Later**

 **Lynch, Kentucky**

* * *

 _This is the last one,_ Alice thought as she let out a deep breath.

She stood in front of a tiny yellow church, that had a red roof and matching trim. There was a sad, nearby sign that said _Mt Sinai Greater Baptist Church._

Shaking herself out as she reached for the door, Alice always wondered if she was going to burst into flames every time she was about to step into a church-which happened more often than she thought; because even though she wasn't sure what she believed, she made damn sure both of her kids had been baptized and gotten their first communion-even if she did it more out of fear than tradition.

But at least her hand didn't burn when it turned the rusted knob.

Tentatively, she pushed the door open and took a step onto the creaky wood floor. Banners with bible quotes hung from the rafters and flapped from the ceiling fan that spun like crazy over the altar.

When she was halfway up the aisle, a blonde main with a beard-wearing all black with a white collar-appeared from the wings on one side of the altar.

Alice immediately stopped when he put on a pair of wire glasses than had been worn around a chain on his neck, to get a better look at the visitor.

She remembered him. She'd met him once. He was young and blonde-looked like an athlete with the alleged heart of a saint. Piper-who was reckless and wild-had been tamed by the quiet man. Alice thought they were an odd pairing, but after all, opposites attracted, right?

But upon hearing how Cliff Skozen had left one sister for another, Alice couldn't help but see him as a hypocrite. He claimed to be a man of God but partook in the condemned acts of the flesh.

She wondered how everyone in his congregation would feel if they knew what their dear pastor had done.

And Alice wanted to say some sins were forgivable, but she saw the shiny wedding band around his left ring finger he wore proudly.

There was no forgiveness there, not when a woman and a child were left grieving their previous lives and trying to cope by drinking, smoking, and killing monsters.

Cliff squinted at his guest and gave a small smile. "How can I help you?"

Trying to regain composure, Alice glanced around. "I'm...looking for someone." She wondered if he thought she was referring to God.

The pastor nodded. It didn't seem that he had recognized her yet.

And she hoped he wouldn't.

He glanced around the church. "Anyone I could help you find?"

"Your wife? I knew her when we were younger...and there's something I needed to talk to her about."

Cliff seemed surprised at that. And why wouldn't he be? He was the pastor. Anyone coming into a church was either looking for God or a holy man to talk to, not the wife of one.

"Hmm," Cliff began. He sounded slightly disappointed-but maybe Alice was misreading things, as he didn't pry any further. "Yes. She's at the house. It's just down the road. It's the white ranch with the wrap around porch."

"Thanks," Alice whispered, as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She turned to leave.

"Wait, I never got your name?" The pastor asked.

Alice felt her stomach curl. "It's Francis," she lied, using her middle name. He hadn't recognized her at this point, but she didn't want to give her real name and trigger his memory.

Cliff nodded. "Alright Francis. It's a small town, so hopefully I'll see you around. God bless you."

* * *

The red painted door swung open and a blonde haired woman with wearing a modest sundress smiled brightly at the figure, without even seeing who it was.

However, upon actually registering who was there, the woman felt the smile become more uneasy. "Yes?" She asked. Reaching to the side, she pulled a pashmina out from where it hung near the door and wrapped it around herself, protectively.

"Olivia?" The woman on the other side of the door asked.

"Yes?" The blonde asked quietly.

"It's me. Alice?"

The blonde frowned, puzzled.

"Your cousin? I lived with your mother after I got-"

"Oh, Alice!" Olivia suddenly responded in a high pitched shrill. "It's so _good_ to see you! It's been too long!"

"I agree," Alice said numbly. Based on what she remembered, she and Olivia had been as close as their parents allowed. Alice always thought Olivia was sweet and kind; the two of them had always gotten along the best. Maybe it was because Piper was busy being too cool to hang out with them and a young Seth was in the backyard eating dirt and frying ants under a magnifying glass. But after hearing what both Olivia's siblings had to say about her, Alice didn't feel the same closeness she'd had before.

"I'd invite you in, but it's such a mess! Why don't we walk around the garden instead?" Olivia suggested in a tone that said _I'd never invite_ you _into my house but you can walk around my yard instead._ Of course, it was possible Alice was making all of it up.

"Umm..actually, I don't think this'll take long," Alice admitted. Of her three cousins so far, she had wanted to get out of the Kentucky mountains faster than some Wisconsin apartment or Kansas motel.

In a strange mix of hurt and relief, Olivia demurely sat down on a porch swing, patting the space beside her, as she was pushed over as far as she could go. "Please, then. I don't want to keep you if you have to go."

"Right." Alice rigidly sank down onto the seat. Both of their feet were planted firmly on the ground, preventing the swing from moving.

"So?" Olivia prompted. She was busy tying the pashmina in the front so it wouldn't come undone.

"Umm...I've already been to see your brother and sister-"

"M _hm?"_

"Uh...yeah. It was a matter of geography. See...I live in northern Illinois. Seth was in southern Wisconsin...Piper was in eastern Kansas…"

"I see."

Alice had to stop herself from sneering. It seemed like Olivia wanted her to leave, but at the same time was offended that she was the last one Alice came to see. It had to be a strange head butt between what Alice knew from Piper and Seth and what Alice remembered from her childhood. But, the more she thought about it, maybe it made sense. Olivia was the one Sherry and Jim Mercer most adored. Maybe how Seth said Alice was the kind of daughter Jan wanted; Olivia was the kind of daughter Sherry wanted. If they had just lived opposite lives maybe everything would've ended up okay.

"Olivia, I have to tell you something. And...it's gonna be hard to hear, but you have to know."

"Okay?"

"So you know I've been living with your mother for awhile? I've been there with my two kids-"

"Oh you had twins?" It was common knowledge within the family the first time Alice had been pregnant out of wedlock, as a teenager-it had been quite a scandal.

"Um. _No._ About a year and a half apart."

" _Oh."_ There was an obviously judgmental air in Olivia's tone.

Alice felt her fists clenching. _How dare you judge me for getting pregnant twice with the same guy that ended in two beauitful children you fucking cheating hypo-just remember, Alice, I'm about to tell her she lost her mother-her estranged mother but still her mother._

Internally waging war with herself in her head, Alice had to compose herself before she dropped the bomb. So far, Seth had reacted terribly, having a panic attack and leaving Alice worried, while Piper was numb for a minute but had too many other things going on to even focus on that.

"Anyways...what I came here to tell you. See…I know several people in your family have been retired from hunting-" Olivia did the sign of the cross. "-but something came up."

Olivia was silent.

"I know you haven't talked to anyone in your family much lately-"

"No wait; that's a lie. I've been talking to Aunt Sherry."

Quickly, shutting her mouth that dropped open, Alice couldn't help but wish she was here less and less. Upon hearing what her cousin had said, her heart had dropped, almost as much as hearing that Piper's husband had cheated on her and then married her sister.

This family was so messed up.

"Oh. Um... _great."_ It was Alice's turn to be insincere. "As I was saying-look Olivia, I don't want to sugarcoat it. This is the third time I've told someone this." Every time she had to retell what Jan had done, it was another wound on her heart. "And I just want to say your mother is a hero. I don't care how you see her, but she saved me and my kids from demons. In the end though, she saved the day and lost her life, all the same.

"But look, I have her ashes and we were going to scatter them in Lake Michigan. Piper and Seth already agreed to go. I know things with your family aren't exactly the best but, I just wanted to extend an invitation." Alice wished she could defy Jan's last requests-for a daughter that didn't deserve to be there-but she just couldn't.

Olivia met her with concerned frown. Alice couldn't tell if it was from being superficial or actual shock.

"Your mom is dead, Olivia," Alice said. A burden escaped from Alice and floated into the air when she said that. She had told all the people Jan had wanted.

It was almost done.

As she pondered Olivia's quickly shifting face, Alice figured the blunt, quick truth was the best way to go.

A few moments later, Olivia seemed to absorb the information, and arranged her features into a carefully arranged, tentative-and only slightly disturbed face. Although Alice didn't exactly know what the look meant, it seemed very inorganic.

"I-I don't think I'll be able to make when you scatter her ashes," Olivia finally said.

Even though Alice hadn't wanted Olivia there the more she knew, it was a still an insult to Jan that the young blonde woman was so quick to decline the invitation.

"Look, if it's because of Piper-"

"Please, Alice. It doesn't matter why. All that concerns you is that I won't be there," she said in a clipped tone.

"Olivia...I know you didn't have the best relationship-"

"We didn't have any relationship. She's a stranger to me."

"Come _on._ She's your _mother-_ and her last wish was for you to be there."

Olivia pulled the shawl tighter around herself, clutching the edges in her fists. "If _your_ mother, Alice, died suddenly, would you go see her? Someone you haven't spoken to in over a decade?"

"That's _different,"_ Alice said lamely, caught off guard by Olivia's question.

"Of _course_ it is, isn't it?" Olivia shot back, the nastiest she'd sounded throughout the entire conversation. "How is it any different?"

"It just is."

Olivia sucked in air through her teeth and glanced out. The house had an incredible view. Nothing but green hills and mountains as far as the horizon went. If Alice lived in a place like this, she could see herself just gazing out into the endless world for hours on end.

Alice could see her life like this. Living in the middle of nowhere-somewhere the world could just suck her up and keep her hidden and safe. Maybe Olivia'd had the same idea. Only Olivia was hiding the wrath of her family and sitting on a destructive secret. In this town, people probably knew her as the soft-spoken, pious wife of a pastor. Little did anyone know she had wrenched that title away from her own sister. Olivia had stolen away a child's father.

Alice found herself staring at the thin golden band on Olivia's hand. It was small and simple.

Noticing Alice's stare, Oliva closed her fist and started rubbing her left hand with the other.

"How could you?" Alice felt herself asking. Never had Alice been so direct with her thoughts, but she couldn't shake the sick feeling in her stomach, perpetuated by her seemingly perfect cousin sitting here beside her. And perhaps Alice had no right to come into Olivia's home and criticize her, but that sure didn't stop her.

"Excuse me?"

"What you did to your sister. He had a _child,_ Olivia, your _niece."_ Alice was surprised by how impassioned her voice was for a kid she had only met twice. But it was one so obviously incensed and hurt by what the adults in her life had done to her, that it pushed her to near suicidally stupid extremes.

Abruptly standing up, the swing jerked back violently. Taking a view jerky steps away, Alice watched Olivia stop right before the porch steps. Olivia held herself rigidly, like a statue. Her shoulders didn't even move and Alice wondered if she had stopped breathing.

And maybe Alice should've stopped talking, hoping that Olivia was going to turn around and throw her out of her home.

"Your husband called Merrill the other day. Did you know that? But it's his daughter, right? Still, I bet you have no idea what that did to her. Merrill was so angry she used herself as bait against a nest of six vampires. It's a miracle she's still alive."

The blonde's shoulders tensed slightly, but she remained unmoving. "Only God can judge me for my sins."

Standing, Alice heavily shouldered past Olivia. "There's no God that would forgive you for what you've done to your own family." Reaching in front of Olivia, Alice slammed down the letter from Jan onto the railing beside her. "That's from your mother," Alice said. "I did everything I was supposed to do. I found you three and gave all of you your letters. And now, I don't give a damn what you do or what you do with the letter.

"My job is done.

"And I'm done with you."

Alice didn't look back as she walked away. She didn't know if Olivia remained standing, frozen. She didn't hear anything from behind her. And frankly, she didn't care. It had taken so little for Alice to turn on her own cousin, who had initially torn her family apart and then turned on them.

The were wounds were so deep that even Alice was left feeling the hollow, residual pain they left behind.

There were a few angry tears that were escaping from her eyes as she finally slid behind the wheel of the car. For what Olivia had done, and the fact she was using God as an excuse to keep on doing whatever the hell she pleased. It reminded Alice of her mother. Sherry had so many vices and used the excuse of her religion, but then turned around and didn't show her daughter any of the supposed compassion her God had.

Starting the engine, Alice reversed down the winding, dirt driveway, putting more distance between herself and Olivia. While she did, she felt the ever-growing desire to see her kids. It had been the longest she had ever been away from them, and had been guilty for leaving them behind so close to the trauma they had gone through.

So she was driving back to Sioux Falls to get them and bring them home. Seth, Piper, and Merrill had made their way back to Chicago already and were going to meet Alice there once she returned.

Alice also had the strong need to see Dean right then. He was always the one to make her feel better. Just by being around him, she felt safe and secure.

She missed that.

A lot of her drive from Kansas and leaving Kentucky was spent on thinking about Piper and Seth. Both had been raised hunting. It had worked, it sounded like. And then Piper had carried that tradition down to her daughter. The idea of allowing children to hunt had originally sounded monumentally stupid and dangerous. But the more Alice thought and heard about it, she found her view of the whole thing quickly shifting.

And was it possible, maybe- _just maybe-_ hunting with Dean and her kids could work?

Alice gasped when she finally thought of it so clearly. The idea had remained unnamed in the back of her mind. But, after acknowledging it, the thought wouldn't go away.

More and more, she was making up her mind about something she couldn't believe. And she didn't know what was going to happen.

All she knew was that the dynamic of her family was about to change drastically.

* * *

 **Hope everyone enjoyed! We've finally got to meet all of Jan's kids, and let me know what you think of them! As you can see, some big changes are happening in the Winchester-Mercer family. I appreciate everyone who has read, liked, reviewed, etc. It really means a lot to me people are interested in the story.**

 **Hope to see all of you in the next chapter.**

 **V.**


	34. Dust in the Wind

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Four: Dust in the Wind**

* * *

The headlights of a car shut off as dust settled around the vehicle. It was a quiet night. There was a slight, cool breeze that rustled the leaves on nearby trees. The only other sounds were a car door slamming, and slow footsteps moving across the earth.

With a relieved sigh, Alice ran a hand through her messy hair and stopped a few feet away from the front steps of Bobby's. She'd much rather stand in front of this house than that of her cousin's. Although she wasn't at her own house, she was at a place that had quickly become a home away from home.

Smiling, she noted that Dean had waited up for her. He sat on the porch steps, with his head heavily cradled in one hand. Soft snores came from his figure, with rose and fell with each heavy breath.

From the car, when she had first noticed him, her breath had caught in her throat. It felt like it had been so long since she'd seen him and the kids, even though it had only been a little over a week. That need to see those she loved punctuated the air, especially now that she was right in front of them.

Kneeling down in front of him, Alice slowly kissed where his hand met his cheek. She held her hand on the other side of his face, continuing to kiss along the same trail, down his hand, to his wrist.

Stirring, Dean let out a small breath. His eyes fluttered open at the light contact on his arm. Blinking against the night, he noticed a change in the gradation in the dark, one that hovered in the center of his vision.

His hand reached forward and made contact with a tangle of soft hair. Naturally following his instincts, Dean wound his hand through the hair, gently guiding the head up from where it was near his arm, towards his own face.

In the dark, Dean and Alice's lips met one another. Alice found herself kneeling on one of the steps, nestled in between Dean's legs, while both of his hands were firmly placed on either side of her head, anchoring her to him.

They felt like teenagers again; itching to see each other after being separated for a few hours at school.

"I missed you," Alice said between kisses. One of her hands was held tightly around Dean's bicep, the other snaked around the back of his neck, raking her nails through his hair.

"Like you have no idea," Dean growled, pulling her closer to him once again.

The two passionately made out for several more minutes, before Alice reluctantly pulled away. "Dean," she began breathlessly. Everything in her vision seemed glazed over. "We should-we should talk."

"Sure. What do you wanna talk about?" Dean asked, barely listening, as he continued to kiss her.

"About...about…" Alice lost her train of thought as she began to respond to his touch more vigorously.

"See? We can talk later. Right now? I need you to come with me," he requested urgently. Dean abruptly stood, pulling Alice with him, their lips locked together.

Alice glanced at the house. "We'd be too loud," she said, catching onto what he meant.

He scoffed. "I think you mean _you'd_ be too loud."

Pulling away, Alice playfully smacked him in the chest. "You did _not_ just-"

"Come on." Dean grabbed her by the hand and pulled her around the perimeter of the house, to the salvage yard. "I'm sure we can find an unoccupied backseat in a graveyard full of cars."

"Wow...what every girl wants: making love in the backseat of some abandoned car."

"Hey, if I remember correctly, you once brought me to a junkyard. Tell me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Cara conceived there?"

"Wow such a romantic." Alice rolled her eyes. "And I'm not sure. We did it so often it's hard to tell."

Dean felt himself smiling proudly. "Well, tonight you're in for a treat. We're stepping it up from an old bathtub. Tonight, we're gonna be doing it in the back of a Camaro."

"And _that's_ where Noah was conceived-I mean the back seat of a car, not a Camaro...can you just kiss me so I'll stop talking?" Alice requested, as Dean wrenched open the door of the blue sports car.

"Gladly," he replied, before descending upon her mouth once again. He pulled the door of the car shut behind them, causing particles of dust to kick up around the car.

* * *

"Holy…" Dean gasped, as he slowly sat up, from where he as leaned over Alice.

"Yeah," Alice agreed. She wiped some sweaty hair away from her forehead.

Breathing heavily, both of them pulled apart and slowly sat up. They glanced at each other with wide grins, breaking out into childlike giggles, offsetting the serious conversation that both felt like they needed to have with the other.

"I really needed that," Dean lamented, as he reached for his jeans to pull them on.

Alice followed suit and shimmied her bra back on, agreeing wholeheartedly with him. The past few days had been taxing on her emotions, and travelling so far in such a short amount of time had really taken a toll on her. She didn't know how Dean could spend all of his time on the road. It was exhausting.

A few moments later, when they were clothed-for the most part-Alice found herself leaning against Dean's chest. His arm was laid across the back seat of the car. In silence, they listened to their slowing breaths and enjoyed the stillness of the environment around them.

"I think we need to talk about some things," Alice finally said. Sitting up, she turned and looked at Dean, who reluctantly straightened.

"Yeah...I think you're right," he admitted.

"Okay. Because, there's some things I need to tell you," Alice said. She suddenly found great interest in her nail beds.

"Alright, go ahead," Dean urged, a bit anxious. He could tell from the way she dragged the words out that she wasn't particularly looking forward to telling him what she needed to.

"I think...I think we may need to change the way this family operates, Dean."

He frowned, not really understanding what she meant, but still feeling a pit in his stomach growing. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "We just pretend like everything is fine. We don't talk about things that need to be talked about. Acting like nothing needs to be changed doesn't mean things aren't broken."

"Alice, I gotta say, I really have no idea what you're talking about."

This was always a problem she had. Alice always found herself talking vaguely in circles about what she really wanted to say. It was something she'd done in her entire life. Never did she want to upset the balance of something by voicing how she really felt. But the drive back from Kentucky had showed her their family was chugging along like a disjointed train on a crooked track.

"I haven't spoken to my parents since I moved in with Jan. And her own kids hadn't spoken to her since around that time, maybe even before that. And I know you and your father weren't exactly close-"

"Watch it," Dean warned.

"That's not what I meant, Dean," Alice snapped back. _That_ was one of the things Dean hardly ever talked about: John Winchester. The man had made a deal to save Dean, and Alice had only a small inkling of what that had done to him.

"I just mean that I don't want to repeat the mistakes of our parents, Dean."

The muscles in his face were tight, and he forgotten the elation from being so close to her. "I don't want to talk about this."

A bit irritated, Alice clenched her teeth together. "I'm not asking you to talk about your father, Dean. I'm asking you to talk about us and our kids. What I'm saying is that it seems to be trend in our family for children to drift away from their parents.

"I don't want that to happen with us and Cara and Noah. I don't want them to resent us." To back up her reasoning, Alice began the painstaking task of explaining Merrill to Dean, and how the girl had put herself into danger for what had happened in her life.

When she was done with the story, Dean was still for a moment. But then abruptly slammed open the car door closest to him. He swung out of the car, and stepped away several feet, staring out into the depth of the yard.

Alice sat in shock. What had she said that made him so upset? Slowly, she exited the car and stood several feet behind Dean. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing," Dean muttered petulantly.

"Hey." Alice grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "What?"

"I told you I didn't want to talk about this, Alice."

She grinded her teeth together. "Well too damn bad. It's something that we need to discuss."

"We really need to talk about what a horrible father I am?"

"I- _what?"_

Dean turned, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. "You're talking about how you don't want us to run our kids out of our lives! And then you tell me about how Merrill almost got killed because her estranged father called her on the phone!"

Her mouth hung open a little bit as Alice realized the wound she had unknowingly hit. He was referring back to when she didn't know he was a hunter and probably just thought he was a flaky father.

"Dean...I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in that way. I didn't even realize that. That thought didn't even cross my mind." She tried to reach for his arm but he yanked it away. "Dean, I don't even think about that anymore," she tried again.

"Well I do. And I'm sure as hell sure the kids do too."

"They don't."

"You sure about that?" Dean challenged.

At a loss for words, Alice held her hands up helplessly. "Look, we've both done things that-"

"What have you done?" Dean asked with a scoff. She really didn't give herself enough credit as a mother.

"Well I've-"

"Stop acting like you've scarred our kids for life, alright? If anyone's gonna drive 'em away it'll be me."

"I'm not gonna let that happen. That's why we need to-"

"Need to what, Al? What are we gonna do that can magically-"

"I want us to hunt!" Alice yelled.

Immediately afterwards, she covered her mouth with both hands, stifling a gasp. She began shuffling until her back hit the window of a nearby car.

There it was. Even if she hadn't meant it exactly like that, there was no taking back the words. The long car ride through a flat expanse had forced Alice to come face to face with what she was truly thinking. After her first hunt with Dean, she couldn't seem to understand why he did what he did. Of course, it was to save people, but Alice helped people in her own way as a nurse. But then, their children were nearly ripped away from them, and Alice realized there was another reason people hunted. It was because they saw something that they couldn't back away from, no matter how hard they tried.

And maybe she didn't mean to pack up their entire lives and go spend it on the road, but maybe hunting a bit would be a way for Alice to defend herself and her children when Dean wasn't there. She knew in reality, he was not always going to be there for her, and she knew she wasn't always gonna be there for her children either.

It went against every fiber of her being to admit that doing the opposite of what she had done her entire life may be the best way to save her children. She thought keeping them away from the edge of the water was the best way to protect them. But time showed she was a fool for thinking she could prevent her own children from growing up.

So, perhaps they had to be thrown in headfirst, in the deepest depths of the water.

Dean's reaction surprised Alice. She thought he was going to shut down like every other time she tried to talk to him about a sensitive subject. Instead, he became more attentive, and stared at her, questioning. "Wait…what did you say?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Just…after seeing Merrill and Piper, and how my cousins were raised—and thinking about our situation—I wonder if…just maybe…the kids and I should learn a little more about your world?" Even though Dean was still interested in what she was saying, Alice winced a bit, fearing she might have taken it too far, about to set him off. She remembered how opposed he was to even taking _her_ on a hunt, and now she was essentially suggesting the same for their children.

"You serious?" Dean asked.

Alice shrugged, leaning her head back against the car. She stared up at the net of glittering specks in the sky. It was the kind of sky she hadn't been able to see in Chicago. It reminded her of the sky that hung over Broken Bow. "I know I said I never wanted Cara and Noah to know about any of this…but things are _really_ different now. And I don't think what we've been doing is working. I mean, they keep asking about it and I don't know what to tell them or how long I can play dumb for." Both parents knew the kids were doing everything within their power to try and learn all they could.

It didn't even to make much of a difference by refusing them—Cara and Noah were too resourceful to even need their help.

"Look, whether or not we agree to help them, they're gonna find ways to go behind our backs. I know they already have. If they're gonna do this, then I at least wanna make sure what they're doing isn't gonna get them killed."

Alice sighed, running a finger through her messed up, just-had-sex-hair. "This seems to be the only thing left to do, Dean."

She waited, holding her breath, waiting for him to tell her she was crazy, just plain wrong. She was prepared for it. He would tell her she didn't know what she was talking about, that she didn't know what it was like to be down in the trenches like him. That she'd only been on one hunt, and it had been an easy salt and burn. That she didn't—

"Okay."

"Excuse me?" Alice asked.

"Okay. I agree with you."

Her mouth fell open. "That's _it?"_

Dean shrugged. "Guess so."

Alice sputtered, trying to make sense of how easy this had been. She'd been through a thousand scenarios in her head about how this would play out, but having Dean flat out tell her she was right was not one of them.

"Wow," she laughed. "I thought I was gonna had to fight you tooth and nail for this."

Dean smirked slightly. "You make a good argument, Mercer. Besides, I thought I was gonna have to convince _you."_

"I'm just shocked, is all, that you're okay with this."

He sighed. Now it was his turn to explain the little escapades he'd taken their daughter on. "I don't think I'm okay with it, but this is the only way this thing'll play out."

"Right."

"So, since you said you were okay with this, I guess I should tell you some things that have been going on around here."

Her eyebrows raised in response. "What things?"

"Well…apparently since you've been gone, Bobby was already giving the kids lessons about the lore."

She squinted her eyes at him. "Why does it sound like you had no idea about this?"

Dean tugged the collar of his shirt. "Well…see the thing is, I didn't."

" _How?_ You were all under the same roof, right?"

"I was a little preoccupied with Baby."

Alice scoffed with an eye roll. That _damn_ car. She could imagine him working on that thing from dusk until dawn. "Dean when I left them with you, I didn't mean to hand them off to Bobby while you—"

"Don't worry, I learned my lesson," Dean quickly repaired the conversation. He knew that Alice thought his obsession with his car was a bit unhealthy—that was something they would never see eye to eye on.

"Oh really?" Alice crossed her arms.

"Yeah. See, Sam got a lead from one our dad's old phones. An old contact of his told him she could help with the demon. We hunted her down, and then ended up going on a hunt from a casefile she had."

"Okay?" Alice didn't really see what that had to do with anything.

"And the kids I think were feeling pretty cagey so I kind of did something that I didn't think I'd ever do."

"What?"

"I uh…brought Cara with us. And kind of promised Noah I'd take him on a hunt. Just the two of us."

"What was the hunt?" Alice asked.

"Umm…it was a killer clown."

"A _clown?"_ Her tone was incredulous, like she didn't believe it anymore that any of them initially had.

"Apparently."

"And…how'd that go?" Her lips were pressed together in a tight line. It was obvious to Dean she trying to keep from flying off the handle. After all, this was what both of them wanted, wasn't it?

"We killed it."

"She's not hurt…is she?"

"Nah. She's fine," Dean said, avoiding some of the details, like he shot a window a few inches from her head, and how she almost got her head cut off. Just minor details, things she didn't need to worry about.

Alice nodded carefully. She swallowed her anger thickly, and took a few seconds to think of a response. "Well…if it went okay then…maybe we should keep…you know." How eloquent she sounded.

"Uh right."

The two stood in awkward silence for a few moments before Alice spoke again.

" _But,_ if we are gonna pull this off, we need to be on the same page. So, that means being honest with each other with how we feel and what we think. And most importantly, decisions with the kids. No more secrets. "

Immediately, Dean felt his stomach turn over. He had come clean about everything… _almost_ everything.

There was one piece of information he had kept from her. One thing that he himself tried to deny.

It was the visions Noah was having, ones that painfully mirrored Sammy's. Dean had tried so hard for so long to pretend like Sam didn't have anything wrong with him. And now, his son was following in the same footsteps of his brother. Alice didn't know about Sam's visions, and not even about Noah's either.

And even worse, it seemed like everyone but Alice knew. Sam had an inkling about what was going on by the dream Noah unknowingly had about demons. Cara probably knew the most because that was who Noah confided in. And then there was Dean, who found out through Noah's impossible knowledge of the car accident.

Now, Dean wasn't sure if there was even a connection between Noah and Sam, but he had a sick feeling that there was.

Dean hadn't even needed to tell the kids to not tell their mother. It seemed that intrinsically, they already knew her reaction would be something even worse than his had been. Both kids were good at keeping secrets, and both clammed up about the subject around their mother.

Putting on a fake smile, while pushing down the hypocrisy, Dean nodded quickly. "No more secrets. No more lies," he said, lying through his teeth. He didn't think about how easy it was for Alice to find out about it, but there was some kind of wall in his mouth that stopped his tongue from shaping the words he knew she should know.

Her shoulders dropped noticeably as the words came out. With a relaxed sigh, she stepped away from the car and placed her hands on her shoulders. "We're doing the right thing." The intonation rose at the end as if it was both a question and a statement. She was asking him and telling herself at the same time, it seemed.

"We're doing the right thing," Dean echoed, with a slightly more confidence. He stared over her head and mindlessly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, knowing the more time that passed, the worse the lies he kept would be.

But hopefully—by some miracle—some secrets would forever remain buried.

* * *

In the dim light, a motley crew quietly walked in a procession down to the lapping waves of the beach. There weren't very many people around, other than a stray jogger or dog walker. At this time, it was the quietest the city of Chicago ever got, even though the faint sound of traffic and honking could still be heard several blocks away.

Leading the group, Alice clutched a silver urn between both hands. When she reached the edge of the water, she set it down on the sand and turned towards the group. Seth and Piper were closest to her, both looking particularly nervous. Merrill stood directly behind her mother, and stared down at the ground quietly. Behind them was Cara, Sam, and Bobby—who surprised nearly everyone when he said he wanted to be there. Bringing up the rear was Noah and Dean.

It was a strange collection of people who had been brought together by a smartass, sometimes pain-in-the-ass woman—depending on which of them you asked.

"This is the stillest I've seen the lake in a long time," Seth said to no one in particular, breaking the silence.

"It looks like the ocean," Merrill said, in wonder. She had no memory of Lake Michigan—Piper had made a point of keeping a wide berth from the body of water when they were hunting, always trying to find cases far enough away, but still mostly in the Midwest.

Alice cleared her throat and everyone else formed a sort of semi-circle around her and the urn. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper. "You know," Alice began, looking up from the paper. "I kept trying to sit down and write this earth shattering eulogy, and this is all that I was able to get from it." She turned the paper around. The page was full of writing, but all the words had been struck out with an angry, black marker.

"Everything I tried to write felt really manufactured and disingenuous. And I think that's because Jan wouldn't have wanted me or any of us to stand up here and stiffly read from a bible or from a piece of paper." With that, Alice ripped the piece of paper up into little pieces and shoved them back into her pocket.

"I gotta be honest, there's not much I can say about her at this point. However well we knew her or whatever we thought of her, I think we can all agree the woman spoke for herself. She didn't need any of us to be a mouthpiece for her, even in death."

Alice slowly bent down and picked up the urn. "I know I've thanked you a million times, but I wish I could thank you a million more. You gave me a home. You gave my children a home. You showed me what real, unconditional love looked like and showed me how to be a strong woman and a good mother." Piper and Seth both swallowed loudly, and looked down at the ground.

Unaware of how everyone else was reacting, Alice brushed some tears out of her eyes. "I—I…you saved my life, Aunt Jan. Thank you." She whispered the last part with a tearful sniffle. Shakily, Alice unscrewed the lid of the urn and placed it to the side.

Hesitating for a moment, Alice finally reached her hand into the urn. Her hand slipped into the silky particulates held within. Feeling more tears begin to form, Alice's hand closed around a pile of the ashes. As she pulled them out, some fell back into the urn.

Turning towards the lake, Alice took the handful and gently tossed it into the air. The cloud of dust seemed to be suspended in a puff for a moment, before gently careening to the water.

Dean snaked through the crowd when he could see Alice beginning to break down once again. Carefully, he handed the urn off to Seth, who stood nearby. Wrapping and arm around her, Dean guided Alice off to the side, as she collapsed into him, shaking quietly.

With the urn now in Seth's hands, he felt his grip on it tighten. His vision began to tunnel and shake as all he saw were the gray ashes inside. That was his _mom._ He didn't think that the next time he saw her would be like this. He always thought she was going to be in Chicago where he could determinedly ignore her from a distance, while still assured she was _there_ to ignore.

But now, she was gone and Seth had lost his chance to ever speak to her again.

" _God,_ Mom," he muttered, staring at the urn. "I should've just picked up the phone. Why didn't I just _pick up the phone?!"_ He asked himself, growing angry. He thought there was always gonna be enough time, but there wasn't. It was gone. His chance was gone.

Carefully, Seth reached into the urn and grabbed his own handful of ashes. He flung it into the air, where it exploded like a firework. He stared at the display, as the wind suddenly picked up and blew the ashes further over the water. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Seth," said a low voice.

Turning, Seth numbly allowed Piper to grab the urn from him. She placed a hand on his arm, nodding. "It's okay."

He stepped off to the side and allowed Piper to have her moment.

Holding it together better than her brother, Piper sighed. "I think all of us always knew this is how we'll all eventually end up, but that doesn't make it any easier." Clenching her teeth together, Piper held the wall of emotions she felt at bay. She wasn't going to cry.

"There were so many things left unsaid between us," Piper whispered harshly. "So much regret and anger…but I _gotta_ try and let go of it. Being mad at you isn't going to help me in any way.

"You know, I always blamed you for what happened to Dad. Maybe it was your fault, maybe it wasn't. But regardless, I _forgive_ you. For all of it. For everything."

Piper reached in and gently loped a handful of ashes into the water. "Hopefully you're with Dad again."

Piper, still holding the urn, held it out to her daughter.

A look of panic flashed across Merrill's face. She took a tiny step back. "I—I don't know what to say," she admitted nervously.

Piper reached out and placed a comforting hand on Merrill's shoulder. "You don't have to say anything," she said, soothingly.

A bit reassured by the words, Merrill nodded and hesitantly reached into the urn. She released her own handful of ashes, not knowing how to feel about the grandmother she had no relationship with.

Piper gave her daughter a proud nod.

"Anyone else?" Piper asked, looking around the group.

"I'll go." Stepping through the crowd, Cara came forward. Piper lowered the urn so Cara could reach into it.

"Hi, Aunt Jan," Cara began awkwardly. She remembered the last encounter she'd had with the woman. When she had snuck downstairs in the middle of the night to unknowingly open the door for a demon. That last conversation between herself and Jan played in her head. "Thanks for understanding me. I just wish I had listened to what you said." She wished she hadn't opened the door, and went back to bed like Jan had suggested. Because, inadvertently, Cara had begun the domino effect that led them to where they were right then.

She released the dust into the wind and took a step back.

Noah hobbled forward and took another handful. "Sorry," he said simply. Even if it hadn't been him, a demon had still used his body to stab her. So in some way, he did have to take the blame for it. But he didn't want to rehash all of that for saying it out loud. It wouldn't do any good. "I'll try to make you proud," he added the last part, surprising himself, even. Maybe he could make up for what he'd done as a demon by helping those who couldn't help themselves.

Sam came by next, and felt awkward as he spread some of the ashes. He didn't know the woman very well, and felt it was better if he just didn't say anything. There was nothing of value that he could add, so he just wished the woman an easy rest.

Slowly releasing Alice, Dean came forward and glanced down at the urn. "Thanks for looking after my family," he said plainly. Jan had literally given her life for Allie and the kids. And there wasn't any amount of gratitude that could make up for that.

Bobby, who had stood on the fray of the group, slowly came forward. His hands were shoved in the pockets of the vest he wore, ratty trucker cap pulled down far, covering most of his face.

Once he reached Dean, Bobby removed his hands from his pocket, and held them out, hovering near the urn. "I'll take it, boy," he said quietly.

Dean glanced at Bobby, and slowly handed the object over. He remembered the argument they'd had a few days back, the one where Dean brought up the fact Bobby missed Jan maybe more than he let on. He still didn't know exactly what Jan had meant to Bobby, but Dean could tell she had meant _something._

There weren't very many ashes left in the urn when Bobby finally held it. He tried to think of something to say that would be meaningful. But it was like his mind went blank. "You know," he eventually said, deciding that anything he would've wanted to say to her, she already had an idea of. They understood each other, not in so many words, but they both knew.

Ceremoniously, Bobby gently tipped the urn over, so the rest of the ashes floated onto the water, mingling with the waves as they slowly met with the sand. "You're free now, woman," Bobby muttered so lowly, no one else heard it.

When the urn was empty, Bobby replaced the lid and set the empty container down onto the sand. He shoved his hands back into his pockets, and stared out at the water. Everyone else slowly moved to stand on either side of him.

The group watched the waves rise and fall, and listened the wind. The sun was slowly rising, causing the water to glitter. More and more people were starting to appear as the morning wore on. And soon, when the group would finally leave, the world would keep on spinning, unaware of a great woman they had just lost, but one that had finally become part of the lake she loved so much.

The waves and the wind had carried Janet away, and now, she was everywhere, and nowhere.

* * *

The group had slowly broken up after the ashes had been scattered. Bobby was very quick to depart and head back to South Dakota, leaving with few words.

Currently, Piper and Seth were sitting on the edge of a nearby deck, their legs hanging over the water. They hadn't exchanged many words. They didn't need to. It wasn't their first time they had come to this lake to say goodbye to a parent. Although they both felt the same way, their reactions had been different.

After their father's death, Piper had bolted. She stayed as far away from the lake as she could, not wanting to get within even a hundred miles of Chicago. Seth, on the other hand, had moved away, but continued to live on the lake as he had as a child. Their lingering grief had manifested itself in different ways. Seth stayed near the lake to be close to his parents, and Piper hunted to be close to them.

A little ways back, Merrill was sitting off by herself in the sand. She mindlessly churned the sand over and over in both hands, busy thinking about her father and the call he'd left her. It wasn't anything groundbreaking, but he always tried to tell her that hunting was a sin whenever he did—like he had any idea.

And she wouldn't lie; Merrill often wished her father would just _die._ He basically already was dead to them anyways, but if he had just died instead of ruining their family, at least the image of him could've been as a good man. She sighed and continued to comb through the sand, letting it slip between her fingers, like the ashes of her grandmother.

Realizing that analogy, Merrill removed her hands from the sand, a bit disgusted by the connection her mind had made. And then she immediately felt guilty for thinking of her grandmother like that—but she couldn't find any real sympathy, because she hadn't even known the woman. And Piper talked about her mother about as much as she talked about Cliff. So Merrill really had no idea what Janet Sutton had been like. That's what made this day so strange. She was watching her family mourn for someone that barely even existed to her.

On a bench nearby, Noah sat next to his mother. Sam, Dean, and Cara stood facing them. Alice and Dean had just finished telling Cara and Noah that they were willing to let the kids learn how to use weapons, about the lore, and even go on a few hunts in time. Sam had stood nearby, absolutely floored by the revelation that _both_ parents had agreed to it with little fight—especially after taking Cara to hunt down a clown. Of course, both kids couldn't believe it and were absolutely over the moon with the prospect of it, especially since both parents had given their blessing.

After the excitement had died down, Alice went to go talk to her cousins, and Cara and Noah found themselves going to get to know their cousin, Merrill.

Sam had taken a seat next to his brother on the bench. He leaned forward, arms braced across his thighs. "I wish we could've given Dad a sendoff like this," Sam sighed.

Teeth immediately clenched together, Dean nodded halfheartedly. He thought he and his brother could just sit here quietly without Sam trying to talk about their feelings. Guess not. "You know he wanted the standard salt and burn," Dean replied.

"I know. I know. It's just…"

"Jesus Christ, Sam." Dean abruptly stood up from the bench. "I can't deal with this."

A bit puzzled, maybe a bit hurt, Sam looked up at his brother. "What's wrong?"

" _Nothing._ Stop trying to act like there's something wrong when everything is fine."

"Is everything fine, though?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, you tell me, little brother," Dean snapped back. "You're the one who's always trying to get me to talk about my feelings. But why don't we talk about how _you're_ feeling, huh, Sammy?

"Like it's funny how when Dad was alive, you were such a contrarian—always did the opposite of whatever he said. But as soon as he died, you're suddenly acting like you two were Gandhi and MLK!"

"And what's so wrong with that?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean waved a hand at him. "Nothing man. Absolutely nothing."

Sam bit his lower lip and looked out at the water, contemplating whether or not he should bring up what's on his mind. He wasn't going to, but Dean's rude, pissed off comments under his breath made Sam change his mind.

"Look, Dean, I know talking about your feelings is…hard for you, but I can tell there's something that's been weighing you down."

Dean suddenly paled. His arms dropped to his side, and it felt like he was going to pass out for a minute. Did Sammy somehow know what John had told Dean right before he died? "I don't know what you're talking about," Dean choked.

"Dad made a deal for you, Dean. I know you know that."

Initially, Sam was relieved that he didn't know what was really bothering Dean. But then he remembered that Dad _had_ made a deal. And he felt like shit all over again. "Thanks for the reminder," Dean muttered, the fight slowly leaving his body.

Sam noticed this and softened a bit. "Dean…"

"Sam, come on. Can we _please_ not talk about Dad?" Dean felt his anger flaring up again. Every time Sam asked him how he was feeling, it just fanned the fire in his anger. It was a sore subject for them both.

Reluctantly, Sam held up his hands. "Alright. Fine. Just…if things get too much for you, will you let me know?" Sam implored.

"Sure thing," Dean said with a snap, not even listening anymore. But both brothers knew that was a lie.

* * *

"How old are you?" Cara found herself asking.

Merrill—really wishing she was alone right now—rolled her eyes. "Fifteen."

"You know I'm almost eleven?" Cara asked, proudly.

"Ya don't say," Merrill replied sardonically, wishing these kids would get the memo and scram.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be starting middle school in the fall."

" _Wow."_

"You were hunting vampires?" Noah asked.

Merrill nodded. "Yeah."

"You know, I'm gonna learn how to hunt too," Noah said, wanting to everyone he could that he was going to be a hunter.

"Crazy," Merrill said. She didn't think her distant cousins were too bad when they weren't talking to her or breathing her air, but now that they were, she wished they would go away. She didn't know why she got stuck on kiddie duty or why the two felt compelled to come talk to her. Just because they were from the same generation or whatever didn't mean they were in the same boat. They were stupid kids that were in over their heads.

Neither Mercer kid seemed to realize how desperately their older cousin wished they would shut up and go away. They were so enamored by the idea of a new family member close to their age that they assumed she'd want to hang out with them as well.

"When did you start to hunt?" Noah asked.

Merrill rolled her eyes and glanced up at the sky. "Don't remember. I've been doing it for a long time."

"I bet by the time I'm your age I'll be a better hunter than you," Noah predicted, thinking of how awesome he was going to be.

"Congrats," Merrill huffed. They were really starting to get on her nerves now.

"And you know, as soon as this leg gets healed, I can start playing football again and—"

"Yeah, Merrill, did you know I had a broken arm? But it's okay now. It healed and—"

The two of them started to talk at the same time and tried to talk over one another, getting louder and louder.

Standing up suddenly, Merrill jumped up, covering her ears. "Oh my God! Will you two _shut up?_ I don't _care_ if you're starting middle school _LOL OMG._ I don't care that you're gonna be a better hunter than me—you can't even walk buddy. Okay? Just because we're cousins doesn't mean I want to hang out with you two. So just leave me alone. _Jesus._ " Merrill abruptly turned on her heel and started walking up the beach, hands clenched into fists, her arms swinging violently.

The adults that were scattered around, had turned when they heard Merrill's indiscernible yelling. Piper was immediately up, following after her daughter, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Dean who had been the closest, already irritated with his brother, caught sight of Cara and Noah's shocked, wounded faces. He walked over to them, and stood over them. "What'd she say to you?" He demanded, fired up.

Cara, with tears pricking her eyes looked up at her father. "I guess…we were bothering her," she covered. She really didn't want to sound like a tattle tale.

"Noah?" Dean asked, seeing that Cara wasn't going to say.

Taking his sister's lead, he just shrugged. "Umm…"

Still, it was obvious at how upset the two were. "That little—" Dean growled under his breath, starting up the beach after Merrill.

Alice came up behind him and quickly intercepted him, catching him by the arm. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go knock some sense into her," Dean hissed, blowing the situation way out of proportion.

"Dean, _Dean."_ Alice snapped a finger in front of his face. "Are you kidding me? She's a _teenager,_ Dean!"

"Really? Look at them, Allie!" He pointed at the kids. Cara was currently helping Noah stand, passing the crutches to him. They still looked more shocked than anything else.

" _Dean,"_ Alice hissed.

A moment later, Piper came back to the beach, without Merrill.

Catching sight of the mother, Dean—apparently angry out of his mind—stomped towards her. "Hey! What did your daughter say to my kids?" He demanded.

Affronted by his aggression, Piper help up her hands. "I don't know. She ran off before I could talk to her her. Just needs some time to cool down"

"Well, when you do see her, tell her to stay the hell away from my kids, alright?"

"Whoa dude, what's your problem?" Piper demanded.

"Right now, your daughter is my problem." Dean pointed right in her face.

Smacking the finger out of her face, Piper felt her anger rising. "How about you just worry about your own kids, huh?"

"Just tell your daughter that if I see her bullying my kids again—"

"You'll _what?"_ Piper's eyes had gone wide, making her look like she was crazy.

"Hey, hey, hey! Enough, alright?" Seth was suddenly in between the two, pulling Piper away from Dean.

"Just watch yourself," Dean warned to Piper.

"Maybe you should ask your _kids_ what happened, instead of threatening mine!" Piper yelled, as Seth continued to shove her back.

Sam and Alice were suddenly in front of Dean, blocking his view of Piper, as she and Seth retreated up the beach.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" Alice finally asked once her cousins were far enough away.

Dispelling some anger Dean clenched his hands together. "Did you see how upset they were, Alice?" His voice shook erratically, like he barely had any control of it.

"I think they're more upset of how much of a damn fool you made of yourself then whatever the hell she said to them," Alice hissed. Cara and Noah had moved back over to the bench. Dean didn't know if they had migrated over there themselves or if an adult had put them there and told them to stay put.

Dean scoffed and pushed past her. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just _tired_ of our kids being hurt, Alice."

She could feel her face burning up. "Then maybe you should actually _be there_ for them, then Dean! Instead of working on your _stupid_ car, maybe you should have actually spent some time with your kids!"

Dean's mouth fell into a thin line. "I told you I'm gonna make it up to them."

" _Please_ , Dean. You've been saying that their entire lives, and we're all still waiting." Alice didn't know what made her say what she had, but between scattering Jan's ashes, and her exhaustion from finding her cousins, Alice's emotions were wound so tightly in a ball that she couldn't sort out what she was feeling. All she knew was that she had reached the end of her rope. She had run out of patience for him.

" _Bitch,"_ Dean spat suddenly, losing control of his emotions, just like she had.

" _Hey!"_ Sam got between the two again. "Cool it."

"Why don't you leave like you always do?" Alice suggested with an icy tone, ignoring Sam.

"Fine by me, _sweetheart._ Oh don't tell me you're gonna start crying," he snapped at her.

"I'm done. I'm so _done. Go,"_ Alice demanded. She spun around and stomped back to where Cara and Noah were.

"Yeah, and _I'm_ the one that always leaves," Dean scoffed, when it was just him and his brother. " _What?"_

Sam looked at him as if he were an alien. "Dude, are you _sure_ there's nothing you want to talk about?"

"Fuck off, Sam." Dean growled at him before turning on his heel and walking down the beach, away from everyone.

Left alone, Sam tangled his hands in his hair and let out a frustrated, upset growl. Turning, he made a beeline for where Alice was packing up everything they had come with.

"We're leaving," the mother said with finality to the protesting children. She shoved the empty urn into a canvas bag she had brought it in.

"Where's Dad?" Noah asked.

Not even responding—due to how mad she was—Alice hitched the bag over her shoulder. "We're leaving."

"Just like that?" Cara asked.

"Alice?" Sam cautiously approached the angry woman.

"What?" She asked tightly, using a much more controlled tone than when she was talking to Dean.

"Are you okay?" He asked, carefully.

"M _hm,"_ Alice responded through pinched lips, taking a few steps away from her kids.

"Look, he's been repressing a lot. He didn't mean it—"

"He never does. Does he?" She asked mirthlessly.

"Trust me, I'm no stranger to dealing with him when he's acting like a child. But don't blame him completely, alright? I tried to get him to talk about our dad and I think that may have triggered him."

Alice's expression didn't change. "That's no excuse. You asked him how he was feeling an instead of expressing himself like an adult, he decides to Hulk out, threaten a teenage girl, and make a complete ass of himself in front of my family and his kids.

"Dean's not the only one that's dealing with a ton of crap. He needs to grow up and own up to his shit. I don't need another kid to worry about."

Sam sighed, realizing she wasn't wrong.

Alice softened a bit. "Look…you know where to find us, okay? And tell your brother if he ever comes to his senses and grows a pair that he knows where to find us too, alright?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Sure."

"Great. I've gotta go." She called for Cara and Noah again, in a no nonsense voice that said she didn't want to hear them complain about leaving so suddenly.

As each kid passed, Sam bent down and gave them a hug, saying he'd see them soon.

Neither asked about when they would see Dean again. Sam could see the fear in their eyes, which they both wanted to know and not know the answer.

Once the Mercers were gone, Sam walked towards the water, kicking at the waves. He shoved his hands in his pocket and felt his eyes sting. Every time he thought things were getting better, something happened that further fractured his family. Everyone was barely hanging by a thread, especially his brother.

It was times like this when Sam really _really_ wished Jess was still there. She always knew what to say and had an amazing knack for keeping the peace. She had been his rock and even though it had been months, Sam still felt the ache that she had left behind.

After several aching minutes of thinking about and missing Jess, Sam began to trek in the direction Dean had gone.

But he had only taken several steps before he felt a transient pain in his head. Wincing slightly, he stopped for a second and then continued forward. However, all of a sudden, the transient pain suddenly began pounding against his skull like battle drums.

The pain escalated, and once it reached a certain level, Sam suddenly fell to his knees with a cry. Hands gripped on either side of his head as it throbbed and pulsated. Through the pain, in his head, he saw strange visions dance across his eyes. He could vaguely make out Dean's face. It was bloodied and beaten.

The color of the visions increased, as well as the intensity of the pain. It caused Sam to fall over onto the sand, senses completely overwhelmed, leaving him lying in the dust.

* * *

Somehow, Noah had managed to fall asleep in the hour long ride from Lake Michigan back to Batavia.

But suddenly, he had sat up with a sudden gasp, similar to at Aunt Jan's when he had woken up to the sound of a car crash in his ear. Except, instead of crunching glass and metal, he heard screams and shouts that sounded sickeningly familiar.

Alice, from the driver's seat, glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. "Noah? Are you okay?"

Breathing heavily, Noah glanced at Cara, who was looking back at him from the front seat. She seemed to understand what was going on, and looked concerned.

"Mom," Noah gasped.

"What?" She demanded.

"I think Dad's in trouble."

* * *

 **Hope everyone enjoyed! Please review!**


	35. Amaretto

**When the Cradle Falls**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Five: Amaretto**

* * *

"Fuck fuck _fuck,"_ Dean growled under his breath as he stomped across the uneven sand of Lake Michigan. He knotted his hands through short about, fretting about the bombardment of emotion he felt. And tt seemed the further away he got, the madder he became at himself, his brother, Alice, and his father.

If he really thought about it, it wasn't about Piper's daughter-what was her name? Dean couldn't even remember.

He had already been angry after Sam decided to bring up their father, who was probably burning away in Hell as they spoke. The fact that John had made a deal for him and was now suffering eternally was something Dean always kept on the back burner, but every time Sam opened his mouth, it moved the already present issue to the forefront of his mind. Any time Sam tried to bring up Dean's feelings only made him feel worse.

It left Dean with a mess of emotions he didn't know how to control. Normally-if no one reminded him of his sorrows, he could at least pretend to be sarcastic and carefree. But set off, like a rocket into space, he couldn't help but let his anger out of the first target he found-which happened to be the daughter of Alice's cousin. It was a strange mix where he saw how hard his kids were trying to be strong, but also he unleashed the previous anger he had felt. If he thought about it later, Dean knew it was just older kids being a little mean to older kids. But it was _Cara and Noah_ and he was so fucking _angry._

There was a part of him that felt bad for screaming at Piper-she hadn't done anything and her daughter had hardly done a thing either. But, he wanted to channel his rage into something palpable, and the teenager distantly related to Alice did the trick. It had been the first thing that set him off. As if he was looking for a reason to be made when he already was.

But in his blind rage, he had triggered Alice and caused her to spew a truth both of them knew. His children were still waiting for the day to pick up the ball he dropped-the ball of being a father. At least John Winchester had stayed with him and Sam-most of the time. But Dean? No. He rarely was ever with his children, and still had the audacity to call them that.

He wished that sand he kicked up reacted more than a simple puff that quietly sank to the ground. The lack of a response fueled the fire in his stomach. It was something he had been repressing since he had woken up from a coma and watched his father die before his eyes.

In his head, he knew how repetitive it sounded, but there were few other things he could focus on. And to push everything else he was tormented by to the side, it invovled moving from the shitty sand onto solid concrete.

A few moments later, Dean was pounding along the solid sidewalk of Chicago. He was surrounded by people dressed for work-all minding their own business. It was this kind of solid ground that made him feel a bit better. Each step be took reverberated into the ground. It was solid. It made him feel more satisfied in his anger than the squishing sand. With each reverberation of his boots on the ground, his feelings of helplessness and frustration rose. And apparently, there was no cap to how high the swell of emotions in his head could go.

And he'd been holding them back for so long. From the moment the demon was on their radar, Dean had been trying so hard to hold everything at bay. There was always something that came up. Dad being kidnapped, the car accident, Dad dying, the demon bitches possessing Cara and Noah and Jan dying.

But finally, it felt like they were in the shitty shitty aftermath. All the dust and debris had settled, and Dean had been holding his breath the entire time, wondering if there was another piece that was going to crumble and fall. The result of his first exhale seemed to just add to the destruction.

And although, on the surface, Dean knew that everything that happened was something that sucked. But in his core, he knew all of it was his fault. It wasn't something he could deny. He had seduced Alice as a teenager and had gotten her and their children trapped in the spiderweb of his life. By leaving Sammy and Dad to go visit her in secret, Dean had left a gaping, undefended hole in their family, a smoking crater. Eventually, it drove Sammy away and caused John to grow even more distant. While no one but him knew it, Dean had been the one that quietly and unintentionally undid the family ties, which had maybe never been that strong to begin with. If had he tried just _a little harder,_ maybe there could've been a calm on all fronts. But there were casualties, the wounded that needed to be tended to and the dead that needed to be buried.

He thought more about storming away from the beach. He probably looked like a psych-a jackass at the least. God knows Alice wouldn't want to see him for awhile-which mean he wouldn't be able to see the kids. And he could only imagine the self-pitying, please-talk-to-me look Sam would have when he came around again.

 _God,_ Dean wished he had his car. At least at the point, he could burn rubber at a hundred miles an hour, as opposed to walking aggravatingly slow down a busy city street.

In that moment, he wanted to kill something, screw someone, and down a bottle of whiskey all at once-anything that could fill the void he felt, and also shut up the thoughts and emotions raging against his skull.

He walked unseeingly, a curtain of red shut over his head, blocking the world that seemed to distort away from him as he moved. It was like sunlight bending away from the curve of the earth.

Walking in random patterns and crazy lines for a few more hours, Dean eventually ducked into a bar. It was embedded into a city block with a red front, the title written in gold, peeling letters. It looked like the kind of place that already had people pounding back drinks at eight in the morning.

Striding to the bar, Dean climbed onto one of the bar stools. "A shot of whiskey and a beer please.. Just keep 'em both coming."

The bartender, a skinny guy with long hair and a long beard, in a leather vest, smirked. "Long night?"

"More like stressful morning," Dean muttered, as he pounded back the first shot. He took a sip of his beer as the bartender placed another shot in front of him.

The man stared at Dean for a moment. "I know that look. Lemme guess: a woman?"

"That obvious, huh?" Dean asked.

"Afraid so. The old ball and chain will do that do you."

Dean scoffed. Alice wasn't even his ball and chain. She was his...so maybe he didn't exactly know what she was other than the mother of his children. They both loved each other but they weren't exclusive-right? They'd never talked about it, but did Alice assume some things about them that Dean hadn't even thought about?

Great. Their relationship status was just more shit he was going to have to figure out.

A few feet over to his right, a stool scraped across the floor. "Hey, Greg. Get me the usual."

The bartender, Greg, pulled out a bottle of Amaretto and lemon juice, and began mixing them. Placing a cherry and orange slice as garnish for the drink, he slid the finished product across the counter towards a bottle blonde woman in pink sweatshirt. Her red thong was visible beneath a pair of low rise, rhinestone-studded jeans.

"How're the kids?" Greg asked.

She scoffed. "Just dropped 'em off with Liam for the rest of the week. I've got three and a half days worth of drinking to make up for."

"How's the business, Shanna?"

"Well, I get to set my own hours, so that's all I need. You mind putting a splash of gin into there?"

While he was pouring, Greg glanced at her mischievously. "You watching the Cubs game later?"

The woman snorted into her drink. "I told you if you wanna talk about baseball, I don't wanna hear you use that name. If you wanna come over to the dark side, the Sox and I would love to have you...who's the new guy?"

Greg shrugged, glancing sideways at the young guy that looked like a model, wearing a leather jacket in the dead of summer. "Woman issues."

Shanna raised her eyebrow, and slid her tongue across her top teeth. "Uh _huh._ Interesting…"

Alarms going off at the predatory gleam in her eye, Greg leaned forward. "No. I don't want you meddling with anymore of my patrons, Shanna. Leave the poor dude alone. He doesn't need to deal with a man-eater right now."

She grinned. "You think I'm a man-eater?"

"You know what you are."

"That's right I do." Taking one more sip from her drink, Shanna pulled up the sides of her thong a little higher on her hips. She unzipped her velour sweatshirt a bit, revealing the edges of her lacy white bra, all the while ignoring Greg's protestations.

Walking around the brooding man, Shanna allowed her hand to slide across his back while she took a seat on his other side. "Haven't seen you here before."

Barely sparing her a glance, Dean didn't even bother with a verbal response. He just shrugged his shoulders.

Shanna leaned forward a little bit, so her knee was pressing lightly against his thigh. "So listen...I heard you were having lady troubles. If you wanted...I was maybe thinking I could help you out with that." She finger-walked her hand up the side of his arm.

Dean took a swig of his beer, staring straight ahead.

"What's your name?" She asked. He continued to ignore her.

"I'm Shanna. Can I call you Mr. Handsome?"

Her hand began to massage his shoulder. "Aren't you _hot_ in this jacket, baby? It's already eighty degrees outside. I can help you take it off it you want."

"Shan, leave the man alone," Greg implored.

Turning her head to the man behind the counter, Shanna glared at him. "Don't you have some glasses to polish on the _other_ side of the counter or some cases of Old Style to count in the _back_?"

About to tell her to leave the man alone again, Greg suddenly stopped. There was a flash in Shanna's eyes with a level of ferocity he'd never seen before. Suddenly deciding it was best for him to leave her to pester this poor man, Greg flipped the towel over his shoulder and headed towards the back.

Once he was gone, Shanna flipped her hair over her shoulder. "So uh...listen. I've got a place a couple blocks away from here. And it's all mine until Sunday night. The kids are with the ex for the weekend."

Eventually, the hand that had suddenly slipped to his inner thigh was enough for Dean to turn around and remove it. When he finally looked at her, he immediately noticed the shapely breasts straining against the sweatshirt, and the supple skin-

"Look, I don't doubt that you'd be a fun time, but I'm really not looking for anything right now," Dean said with a thick swallow. It seemed to alcohol and the blonde that was hanging off of him had things up to a point where he aware as to what was going on.

Her hand slipped downwards again. "Playing hard to get is only gonna make me want you more," she told him, dropping her voice a few octaves.

Suddenly jumping up at the placement of her hand, Dean stepped away from the persistent woman. "Whoa whoa. Look, I'm flattered. Really. And you're um...you're hot. Like _really_ hot. But...I just can't. I'm sorry." He fumbled over his words and feet, feeling his resolve wearing away.

Dean reached into his wallet and threw two twenties down onto the bar. "Sorry. Maybe under different circumstances. I hope you find what you're looking for." Dean turned and began for the exit, wondering what the hell was going on with him.

There was silence behind him for a moment, and he figured Shanna had lost interest and went back to nursing her Amaretto Sour.

"I wouldn't walk out those doors without me, _Dean."_

Hand hovering above the handle, he suddenly froze.

"Come have a seat, baby."

Spinning around, Dean saw Shanna, patting the bar stool beside herself, her eyes a pitch black.

 _Another_ damn demon? He couldn't catch a fucking break from those hellspawn.

Swallowing, noticing there were several others in the bar, Dean carefully walked towards her, ready to grab the holy water flask in his jacket. "What the hell do you want?" He demanded.

"I want you to come with me," the demon said, her eyes flicking back to a normal color.

Dean felt himself sneering. "And why the hell would I do that?"

Pleased with herself, Shanna let her arms rest on the bar, as she leaned back. "Because if you don't, I'll re-decorate this place will the guts of all these alcoholics."

"Leave 'em out of this."

"Then you better not walk out those doors without me."

As she said that, Dean moved to grab the holy water from his pocket, but before he could even reach into his jacket, the demon grabbed his wrist in the painful grip. She twisted and Dean's knees bended as he winced.

Standing up and over him, she reached into his pocket with the other hand pulled out the holy water. " _So_ predictable. Don't be a caricature of yourself, Dean." She twisted his arm further, sending him to his knees. She smiled. "This is a nice view."

"Which one are you, bitch?" Dean sneered, trying to act like he was in control of the wildly escalating situation.

"You wouldn't've heard of me." Shanna patted his cheek with one hand. Releasing him from her grip with the other, he went sprawling to the ground.

Dean slowly stood, and glared at the monster defensively.

Shanna crossed her legs, resituating her position on the stool. "So, you have a choice now, Winchester. I won't stop you from walking out those doors but I'll make a meal of all these morning drinkers. _Or_ you come with me and I'll spare these poor pathetic bastards."

"And what exactly else could you demons want with me?" Dean demanded.

The demon just smirked.

Dean rolled his eyes in aggravation. "Jesus Christ you make Helen Keller look like a chatty Cathy."

Deciding she'd had enough sitting there, Shanna slid off the stool and started to move forwards, like she was stalking her prey. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and made a low, pleased sound. "M _hm._ And you make Michelangelo's David look like a deformed Chernobyl victim." She lightly scraped a nail down the side of his cheek, watching as he swallowed and tried to remain composed.

Shanna let out a laugh at his discomfort. Chucking her chin towards the door, she nodded. "Let's get out of this dump and go somewhere a little more fun." She watched Dean's hesitation. "Like I said, come with me and these losers can live to see another day ruined by alcohol. Your choice." She held out her hand.

Glancing back at the slumped figures sitting at the bar, Dean contemplated the outstretched hand. It didn't take much convincing for him to grab her hand when he knew there were innocent lives at stake.

Once his hand was placed on her palm, she clamped her fingers around his hand like a venus flytrap catching a bug. "Good choice, baby. My name's Talla, by the way."

* * *

The car jerked to a stop suddenly. The only thing that kept Cara and Noah from slamming forward were their seat belts locking.

"What do you mean Dad's in trouble?" Alice demanded. She turned around to her son in the backseat, heart beginning to beat faster.

"What did you hear?" Cara asked, her eyes worried.

Noah locked eyes with his sister, fearful. Both of them ignored their mother as he told his sister. "Screams. Someone in pain. I think it's Dad."

Cara covered her mouth with a gasp, and turned back around. A set of horrifying images began to flash through her mind. She wished she could just disregard what her brother said, but he was always right with these feelings he had.

Alice's head spun as she tried to intake everything. "Dad? You heard Dad screaming? What-"

"We need to find Uncle Sam," Cara suddenly realized, spinning around in her seat to look at her brother. He had a hand pressed to one of his temples. She could tell he was still hearing it.

"I think you're right," Noah muttered, feeling like he was out of breath.

"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Alice demanded.

The siblings looked back and forth between each other. They knew their father vaguely knew of Noah's strange premonitions-and their mom had no idea. Both thought she was going to lose her mind when she found out.

"We'll tell you...we just need to find Uncle Sam first," Cara insisted. The activity in Noah's mind seemed to increase as he shut his eyes tighter, both hands winding around his head. He bent forward in apparent pain.

"What's wrong with him, Cara? Noah, are you okay?" Alice asked. "Noah!"

"Yeah... _fine._ Just do what Cara says," Noah muttered, head held in his hands. His words were barely audible.

"What is going on?!" Alice demanded.

"If you just start driving towards him, we'll tell you," Cara said.

"And how the hell am I supposed to know where he is?" Alice asked. As she said that, someone behind her laid on their horn.

"Oh for God's sakes," Alice muttered, as she turned on her hazards and pulled over to the shoulder of the road, putting the car in park. She turned in her seat and glared between her two children.

"I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what the _hell_ is going on."

Noah glanced at Cara for help.

"Hey, I'm calling Uncle Sam here. _You_ tell her. It's in your head anyways," Cara muttered as she cagily pulled the phone to her ear, glancing out the window, tersely.

"Thanks for the support sis," Noah muttered, looking out his own window for a moment.

The sound of his mother clearing her throat brought him back to reality.

"You gonna tell me what's going on here?" Alice asked.

Noah laughed nervously and looked around, half wanting to jump out of the car into oncoming traffic. Just so he wouldn't have to tell his mother about his weird premonitions.

"So...see Mom...I get these weird-"

"-premonitions," Cara supplied, half-listening from the front seat.

"Yeah. Right. I get these weird premonitions, apparently. I hear these things in my head-"

"Hear _what?"_

"Well, before all the demons and everything, I heard glass and metal crashing. Like a car crash. And then Dad was in a car crash. And when we were at Aunt Jan's, before everything, it wasn't a sound in my head-but I still had this bad feeling that something bad was going to happen. But, I think I felt it even before then."

For a moment, Alice forgot where she was. It was like she was suspended in space among the stars, sucked up into a black hole until she was infinity and nothing. Her head felt like a helium balloon, ready to float away, but attached to a bag of sand that prevented her from rising up and popping into the troposphere.

"So...you had this _feeling_ that something is wrong and then _heard_ what was wrong?" Her spun faster than a carnival ride. "And I'm just hearing about this _now?"_

Noah glanced down at his lap, guilitly. "Guess so."

"Cara?" Alice asked, turning to her daughter, who seemed to know what was going on.

Cara shoved Alice's phone back at her mother. "Sam told me where he would be. You should drive fast," Cara advised.

Alice was faced forward, hands gripped on the steering wheel, foot poised over the gas, like she was going to move. But she felt like a wax sculpture, frozen in time and place.

"It's Dad. You should go. Please," Cara urged, with a little more force.

Feeling the words jar her core and feeling like she had learned nothing, Alice forced the car out of park and burned rubber, a billion questions still bouncing around in her head.

* * *

Dean stepped out into the afternoon sunlight-Christ, how long had he been in the bar for?

His hand was wrapped around Shanna's-Talla's?-and he felt himself glaring into the mid-sunken sun.

"What time is it?" Dean asked, feeling dazed.

"12:12," Talla offered, her hand gripped tight around his. "PM, by the way."

Dean sneered as she clenched his hand. "Yeah, thanks, I gathered it wasn't the middle of the night."

Talla smirked against his writhing arm. "Just wanted to make sure you were at least somewhat lucid."

Dean sneered. "Well I am. Congrats."

"Well, let's go then." Talla tugged him forward, only making it about three steps before he stopped completely.

Not wanting to draw a scene to herself. Talla stopped and allowed Dean room to try and pull himself away. Her grip tightened. "What did you think was going to happen after this? That I would just let you walk out those doors on your own?"

Dean shrugged. 'I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead."

Talla scoffed. "Shocker. Well, since you don't know, you're gonna come back with me to this single mom's sad apartment."

"And why would I-"

"Don't make me cause a scene, Dean. With this many witnesses, it'll be a bloodbath for them."

Clenching his jaw, Dean glanced around the bustling sidewalk. The bitch was right. Although it was less crowded now that the morning rush was over, there was still a steady stream of people passing them. Besides, without his holy water and salt, there was nothing he could do short of trying to be a demon to death.

God, Dean really needed to learn those exorcisms.

"Come on, _baby,"_ Talla commanded through gritted teeth, trying to mask the irritation in her tone.

"So you're just gonna drag me all over Chicago like a doll?" Dean demanded, as he half walked, was half pulled by her. Although the vessel was just some blonde, barely five feet tall, the demon inside probably could've thrown him across the street with minimal effort.

"Only for a few more blocks." The further away from the bar they got, the more the demon's true personality was starting to come out. She was shedding the alcoholic, slightly slutty single mother persona and showing a much more terrifying side. The demon had a cool, stoic kind of presence; one that barely seemed to be holding back.

"So what?" Dean asked as they continued their trek. "You got some personal vendetta against my family too? Cause if that's the case, you're gonna have to get in line."

"Not personal," Talla replied, yanking him across the street into oncoming traffic when he hesitated. "I'm just good at following directions."

"So you're some bureaucratic bitch then?"

"Better than being a man-child about to piss his pants in fear."

"I'm not afraid of you," Dean growled. "I've faced way worse."

"Oh you will be. Just gimme a chance to prove myself." Talla abruptly turned and dragged him down an alley, stopping in front of a staircase designed as a fire escape.

She finally let go of his hand and nudged him towards the stairs. "Go. Second window on the third floor."

He glanced up the metal staircase and covertly glanced over his shoulder at where they were. It was a one way alley, and the only way out was past the demonic bitch. There was no one around anymore, but he was sure that as soon as he got out onto the sidewalk-if he even made if that far-she would make good on her promise and rip apart the closest pedestrian.

She scoffed. "I wouldn't try anything. But if you want to, see how far you'll get."

"Bitch."

" _Nice_ come back. Not that I'd expect anything more from the brain damage you undoubtedly have from dozens of concussions. But, if you don't climb, I'll keep lowering your IQ." There was an edge in her voice, like a sharp knife ready to cut into his brain.

" _Fine,_ I'll climb. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Smirking, Talla swivelled out one leg, sticking her hip out towards them. She snapped the band of the thong. "They're nice, no? A little sluttier than I'd normally do." The intonation in the way she talked changed, making it sound like she was an American trying to do a foreign accent. Dean wasn't sure if he imagined it or not.

With an aggravated sigh, Dean ascended the unsure staircase, every step nearly buckling the entire structure. He felt Talla keeping up a solid, steady pace behind him.

Dean was nearly shoved through the window for taking too long. He found himself crashing onto a gaudy, maroon colored shag carpet, his rolling body coming to rest against a gross, brown suede couch.

Particularly feeling the alcohol at the moment, he sat up and glanced around the room. "Holy shit this place is a dump."

The demon scoffed as she casually slid through the window. "Well, the bitch that owns this place has at least three STD's. I don't know what you were expecting, but you really need to lower your standards."

"They were already pretty low," Dean scoffed. He flopped down onto the couch, and crossed his leg over the other, like it was his choice to be there. But inside, he was screaming. He knew he was in deep shit.

Talla passed him and walked into the kitchen. "You want a drink? Don't know why this bitch bothers going out when she has enough booze to last her through Armageddon. Well...we'll see how she does. Money is on her dying in the first week."

Dean scoffed.

Raising an eyebrow, Talla turned to him while she unscrewed a bottle of Amaretto- _really,_ again? "What?"

"Armageddon. _Please,"_ Dean replied in sarcasm.

Taking a swig straight from the barely empty bottle, Talla slowly walked towards Dean, her hips swaying back and forth. "What? You think this little blue marble is just gonna keep spinning forever? I've been around a _long_ time. And I can tell you we're closer to the end than the beginning."

The facetious smile on his face fell slightly. The way she talked was so sincere, as if having some first hand knowledge. "You're not serious."

Talla shrugged. "Not saying an asteroid is gonna plow into earth tomorrow, but your children may not live to see their hair turn gray."

"Lying bitch," he growled. Defensive hackles raising, Dean launched off the couch, his hands grabbing near the demon's neck. That's all it took. Mentioning either of his kids turned into a raving lunatic. He yelled incoherently like one, suddenly remembering why he was in that situation: because he had gotten pissed off and tried to take it out on an inappropriate outlet.

Removing the hands from around her neck, Talla shoved Dean back into the couch with such a force, both he and the couch slid back several feet, knocking into the wall.

Jarred by the speed of the movement, Dean propelled himself up, blindly grabbing at the demon in front of him again.

And again, like a flash of lightning, the demon moved with intent. She grabbed one of Dean's wrists and clipped it into a heavy duty handcuff that was hung from a chain, bolted to the ceiling.

For a moment, Dean hung limply, taking longer to process that he was know chained to the ceiling.

"Would you believe it if I told you this was already here?" Talla asked, pouring some Amaretto into a coffee mug. "I don't know what kind of freak has handcuffs in the ceiling in the middle of her living room, but this lady does. Also has a stripper pole in the bedroom."

Talla scoffed into her drink. "Man, her kids are gonna be fucked up."

Finally setting the drink back down, Talla perched on the edge of the coffee table, sitting a few feet away from Dean. "I thought you'd have more to say about this, Dean."

"Not to you."

Talla grabbed his chin with one hand. "It's okay. Go ahead. I know you've had those thoughts screaming in your head since Daddy died."

Dean glowered at her, and tried to jerk forward, only able to move several inches.

Frowning, Talla released his chin and sat back down. She slowly picked up the drink and swirled it around, all the while studying Dean's face.

"The hell are you looking at?" Dean finally demanded, as Talla's gaze bore into his.

"Nothing...I just thought you'd put up more of a fight. I heard you were going to be a challenge, but you're a pig walking willingly into the slaughterhouse."

Talla clicked her tongue and stood. "I'm a little disappointed. Others have really talked up your reputation. I was hoping you would've been able to get it up. I guess I'll have to help you out."

"What are you-"

Spinning around, Talla grabbed a sharpened, shining knife from behind her and jabbed it deep into Dean's shoulder.

In surprise, Dean let out a well of pain, that bounced against the walls of the crappy apartment. He yanked forward against the handcuffs. " _Son of a bitch!"_ He hissed, vision blurring around the edges for a moment.

Hand still around the hilt, Talla sneered at him as she dug it in further, and proceeded to twist it around his shoulder.

"That's right. Let it all. Let it all out; all those pent up emotions you've been pushing down. Cause guess what, they're gonna come out, Winchester."

Talla's triumphant laugh filled the apartment, mixing with Dean's screams.

* * *

Hastily parallel parking along a mostly abandoned street, Alice slammed the door behind her, after telling Cara and Noah to stay in the car. With only a few feet away, she could see Sam, hunched forward, elbows on his knees. There was a cup of coffee in one hand, while the other cradled his head.

"Sam," Alice said, out of breath, stopping a few feet away from the bench.

Sam looked up at her. His face was expressionless, as if he wasn't processing everything that was happening. Everything he saw was on the verge of being double. "Alice."

"Dean is in trouble."

"Yeah, I think he is," he said, looking back down at the pavement. If he stared at something that moved for too long, he was afraid he'd throw up.

"Well where is he? What are we gonna do, Sam?" Alice demanded, her voice slightly louder than intended. After hearing Dean was in trouble and that Noah had some kind of freaky visions, she felt wildly out of control of everything, including the pitch and intensity of her voice.

Closing his eyes, Sam winced against the sound scraping against his eardrum. This vision had been the worst by far and had incapacitated him much longer than the others had. Like he was hungover, he still felt the lingering, spinning effects of it.

Trying to get out of her own head a little bit, Alice finally saw how helpless he looked. Freezing for a moment, Alice took a deep breath and sat down beside him. "Sam? Are you okay?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, even more aware of how crappy he was feeling. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll be okay. Just gimme a few minutes."

"What happened?" She asked softly.

"After-after everyone left, I had a vision."

"A _vision._ You _saw_ him?" Her voice was beginning to rise in pitch again.

Sam nodded, wordlessly.

"Did you hear him, too?" Alice asked.

He nodded again.

"And he was screaming, wasn't he?" She began to feel sick like Sam, actually having to say it out loud.

"How'd you know that?" Sam asked. He felt alarmed at that, but his portrayal could be considered or mild interest.

Alice couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice, even when Dean was in danger. "Apparently my son has auditory premonitions. Didn't know you saw stuff. Didn't know Noah heard stuff. Guess Dean just loves keeping secrets from us."

Sam's breath caught. "Noah has visions?"

"Sort of. He heard Dean screaming. That's why we knew to call you. Weren't you wondering that?" Alice asked.

Honestly, the thought hadn't even occurred to him. But the more he thought about that, the more it made sense. He remembered back to the strange physic-like dream Noah had, foretelling the presence of demons that was shortly going to be in the child's future.

Perhaps Sam should've told Alice about the dream, but two things stopped him. First, he didn't want to stress her out any further than she probably was. And second, he didn't want to have to deal with her reaction. Perhaps when they got Dean back, he tell her then, so she could be angry with both Winchester brothers in one tidy unit.

"Of course Dean doesn't tell me anything that's going on. I'm so _tired_ of him picking and choosing what secrets he keeps from me." She stopped for a moment, and realized her anger at him had to be stowed away until later. "But first, we need to find him," Alice said, swallowing the barrage of confusing and messy feelings.

Sam did the same, but instead pushed back the physical symptoms. Now wasn't the time to wallow in how shitty he was feeling.

It was time to find Dean.

* * *

They had been relegated to waiting in the car, once again. Cara felt like this was a trend that was going to continue.

Wrenching her gaze away from the window, Cara glanced back at Noah. His eyes were closed, head rested back against the seat. He looked like he was sleeping.

"You doing okay?" She asked.

"Yeah." The volume wasn't the issue, it was just what he was hearing. The car crash had been annoying and given him anxiety because he hadn't known the source. But hearing his Dad's screams grated away at his sanity like it was a block of cheese.

Huffing, Cara swivelled back to looking out the window. Her mom was now sitting beside Uncle Sam on the bench. She could tell her mom had chilled out a little bit; she wasn't flailing her arms or freaking out as much anymore. That was good. It was hard for Cara to deal with her mom when she got like that.

"Didn't she say she was gonna let us hunt now?" Cara asked, half to herself. If they were made to wait in the car while Alice went to talk to Sam, what were the chances they were actually going to be able to actually help in the field?

Noah ignored her.

With an angry mutter, Cara placed her head against the window, and continued to watch her mother and uncle talk about whatever it was she wasn't allowed to overhear.

And although it was easier said than done, Cara just wanted her dad there. Over the past few weeks, they'd had a bumpy time, but in the end, he had proven to be there for her.

And now maybe, she had to be there for him as well.

* * *

Upon hearing her phone ring, Piper snapped it open, answering it in the middle of the diner. She didn't even check to see who was calling. It had been sitting next to her plate of untouched pancakes.

"Hello?" She asked, excitedly.

"Is it Merrill?" Seth asked, from where he sat across the table, fork poised over the omelette he was currently smashing, but not eating.

"Hey, Piper."

Shoulders slumping a little, Piper tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Alice."

"Look, I know you probably aren't in the mood to hear this, but I need your help. Dean's missing and-"

"You're kidding, right?" Piper cut her off. "My _daughter_ is missing, Alice. Dean is a grown ass man who apparently feels the need to take his anger out on teenagers. You don't see me calling you up to help look for Merrill. We take care of our own, Alice. Deal with your own man."

"Piper please, Dean is _really_ in trouble-"

With a scoff, Piper ended the call. Her cousin had some _nerve._

"What's going on?" Seth asked, trying to put together a story with half of the conversation he heard.

Piper threw her phone onto the table. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. They had spent a few hours looking for Merrill. And while Piper knew how easy it would be for her daughter to get in trouble, the mother still knew that as long as Merrill's anger wasn't caused by her father, then Piper knew at least her daughter was likely getting some space, and not doing something stupid. At least hopefully not too stupid.

"Alice said Dean was missing."

"What?" Seth sat up a little straighter.

Piper frowned at her brother, not knowing why he cared. "Yeah. She said she wanted our help."

"And you told her to kiss off?" Seth demanded.

She crossed her arms and leaned back. "Yeah."

"Why would you tell her that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because she asked for our help!" Seth said, like he had just asked her what color the sky was, and she said it was red.

"Well, I've got my own daughter to worry about. And besides, you think I'm gonna help look for him after what he did to Merrill?"

Gritting his teeth, Seth watched his knuckles turn white as they gripped the edge of the table. He loved his sister. He really did. But, it was times like this he wanted to throw her across the room and knock some sense into her stubborn head. She was the most pigheaded, obstinate person he'd ever met. And she'd always done it to be a contrarian. When she was angry, whatever someone wanted her to do, she was sure to do the opposite of.

"Look, what he said to Merrill was out of line, but why are you assuming Merrill didn't deserve it?" Seth asked.

Piper scoffed. " _Really,_ Seth. Nice? Real nice." He was moderately surprised she didn't reach across the table and punch him in the face.

He ran a hand through his hair. It was like trying to box a brick wall, reasoning with her when she got like this was damn near impossible. "Look, I know you know how Merrill can be. You've said it yourself thousands of times. She can be a bitchy teenager. That's just a fact."

Piper bit the inside of her cheek and watched her brother through slitted eyes. Her fork ominously tapped against the edge of her plate as she decided her next reaction. If Seth had been a random stranger, she would've flattened their ass for saying those things about her daughter. But, it was her brother after all. And while he wasn't entirely wrong, she wasn't about to tell him that. "Still my daughter," she finally said, the fork still tapping against the plate.

Seth swallowed a bit and tried to try a more diplomatic approach. "Look, we just came from our mother's funeral-"

"Estranged mother."

" _Still_ our mother. And _you're_ the one that said you wanted to let go of all the anger-"

"Oh _don't_ use my words against me, little brother. I'm really not in the mood."

Seth stared at her for a moment. "So that's it? You're not gonna help Alice?"

"Why should I?"

"She helped save your _daughter._ She told us our mom was dead."

Piper scoffed, and took a sip of her scalding, black coffee. "If I recall correctly, she just stood in the corner in fear. When she actually _did_ fire the gun, it almost hit me."

"Seriously, this is how you're gonna be?" Seth asked in disappointment.

She leaned back. "Guess so."

"Don't do for Dean, do it for Alice. Pipe, she's family-"

"Yeah? And Olivia _was_ too...at one point. Cliff was my _husband_. Family doesn't mean a damn thing to me, Seth. Not when my own sister betrayed me, and our own mom killed our dad."

Seth's mouth fell open in. He felt like he'd been electrocuted. It wasn't something that had been said out loud in a long time. "Piper, you know that's not how it happened."

Her eyes glistened a bit. "What do you know? You were a kid."

Face becoming stony, Seth angrily slid out of the booth. "You know what? Fine. You sit here and pout and I'm gonna go help my _family._ Because unlike you, it actually means something to me."

A few seconds later, the door of the diner slammed back against the wall, the bells above it happily singing someone was exiting.

Finally alone, Piper gripped the ceramic mug in one hand. One the side, it was a panoramic photograph of Chicago, proclaiming it's beloved pet name, the Windy City. She glanced at the static, pixelated bottom of the picture: Lake Michigan.

With the sudden urge to throw the mug, Piper roughy slammed it down on the table and removed her hand from the mug. She balled her hands into fists and shoved them in her head, teeth grinding.

She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.

 _Damn,_ she thought.

She needed a cigarette.

* * *

The only thing that kept Dean from being a pathetic, panting, bloody pile on the floor were the creepy sex handcuffs that had apparently been industrially screwed into the ceiling. And while the demon said it had been nothing personal, she sure had no problem stabbing and slashing her way through, doing it with the same intensity as a crazy girlfriend burning her ex's clothes in the front yard.

However, while her actions were on the level of batshit crazy, she had remained cold and calculating, much more like a CIA agent interrogating a foreign agent for intelligence, rather than a psychotic ex.

"You're wondering how the neighbors aren't hearing you scream?" Talla asked. She took the bloodied knife and wiped it on the couch. Probably wasn't even the worst fluid that had been on there either.

"Not really," Dean smarted, spitting out a wad of blood and spit onto the hideous carpet. It was hard to think about anything else but the pain.

Strolling over to the wall, Talla banged her fist against it. "Reinforced. Completely soundproof. Crazy sex sadistic woman that lives here."

"Your accent is slipping."

"Excuse me?" Talla asked.

Dean attempted at what he thought was an unaffected smirk. "Your American 'accent?' I can tell it's fake."

" _Complimenti._ And guess what? That still doesn't help you at all." Talla was swigging straight from the bottle now. "You know what 'Amaretto' means in Italiano?"

"What?" Dean asked with mock enthusiasm, trying to keep his mind off the pain radiating from his entire body.

"It means 'a little bitter'. I guess you could say I'm that."

"Can't you just have a drink without it meaning something?"

"I didn't intend for it to have any meaning. But maybe, I should admit something to you, Dean Winchester."

"What?"

She turned her head to the side. "You're a much more agreeable person than I thought you'd be." She plopped down onto the couch, careful to avoid any disagreeable stains. "I'm actually enjoying your company."

"You're delusional."

She laughed. "I'd be careful about what you say to me. I have no problem continuing to carve you up. I also have no problem sitting here, having a conversation with you. It's your choice."

"Why am I here?" Dean asked.

Talla scoffed. "Your family has been a pain in my kind's side for a long, _long_ time."

"Thought you said it wasn't personal?" Dean asked, throwing her own words back in her face.

" _Vero,"_ Talla conceded. "Still, you should watch how you talk to me." She held the knife up, slightly menacingly.

Dean observed her. She didn't seem particularly upset with his question. Even when her actions seemed wildly chaotic, she managed to keep her head. She was playing with him, like a cruel lioness, belly already full, that had caught an antelope out of boredom. Even if she seemed like she was okay with letting him toe the edge of being a smartass, Dean could tell she was in absolute control.

It seemed she had possessed a meatsuit with similar inclinations, Dean thought, as he tugged on the handcuffs.

"What do you want, Talla?" Dean eventually asked.

"Whatever my boss wants."

"No. What do _you_ want?"

She smiled at him knowingly. "What my boss wants." There was a much more noticeable accent in how she spoke now.

"Really? You're telling me the only reason you're into whatever you are is because you're such an altruist?"

"Everyone looks out for themselves in one way or another, _bello._ And the best for me is what my boss wants."

"Who's your boss?"

Talla gave a wide, white smile. "Oh I think that would give away too much."

Dean frowned deeply. It caused blood from a cut along his hairline to drip into his eyes. He blinked harshly several times, shaking his head trying to get it out.

"Azazel? That your boss?"

For the first time, Talla gave a genuine reaction. Upon hearing the name, her eyebrows shot up, and the wrist holding the bottle of Amaretto went limp. But, as usual, that split second of surprise was the only organic emotion she let show.

"You figured it out," she finally admitted. And all the while, she didn't seem that upset about it-actually, she didn't seem any which way about it.

Dean noted that. "Did you want me to figure it out?"

She shrugged. "Yes. No. That is not what matters."

"Why am I here, Talla?" He asked, with a little more force.

Talla contemplated that for a moment. She didn't need to think of the answer-she knew that. But she was actually deciding if it was okay to tell him at this point.

Shrugging her shoulders, she sighed. " _Fine._ I'll tell you." Her tone suggested he had pried it out of her with a knife, instead of the other way around.

"Okay...why am I here?"

Talla sighed. "Like I said, it's nothing personal."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

Slinky standing from the couch, Talla moved towards him, bottle of Amaretto in one hand, knife in the other. She plunked herself down on the coffee table, facing him. She brought the flat side of the knife up, and tapped it against her cheek in contemplation. "How do I say this? You're...the honey. I'm the flytrap."

Dean frowned, at first wondering if her understanding of English was really that bad she didn't understand figurative language.

But after a few minutes, an alarming understanding clicked in his head. "I'm bait?" He eventually asked.

The demon brightened. "Ah. You understand. _Si._ You're bait. _Esca."_

"For who?" Dean demanded.

"I thought you were smart." Talla almost seemed disappointed. But Dean knew it was all manufactured.

Seeing he was struggling for an answer, Talla helped him out. "You're the bait, _manichino._ You're the bait for whatever Azazel wants."

Talla raised her eyebrows, as if waiting to see Dean caught on.

"You're the bait for your brother and son."

* * *

 **This was originally part of a longer chapter but I wanted to put something out to you guys since it's been awhile. Thanks for everyone that has stuck with me and for being patient. I'll be a college graduate in a few weeks and just have a lot to do as the semester wraps up.**

 **V.**


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